


Sherlock's Tiny Companion

by Noxtorious



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Dog!John, Fluff, Gen, John is adorable!, Sherlock is no challenge for a cute animal, puppy!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxtorious/pseuds/Noxtorious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft comes bearing a gift, much to Sherlock's dismay. He doesn't want it, but there's no choice in the matter. He comes into possession of a puppy that was bred for military work, but was put out of commission. The last thing Sherlock wanted was a flatmate, but at least little John Watson can't speak. Instead, he is annoyingly expressive and follows Sherlock everywhere! Not only that, Sherlock has to deal with annoying Yarders, an even more than annoying brother, a really snaky and over intelligent puppy and cases. Before the end of the day, Sherlock is pretty sure he is going to lose it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John's Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> After rolling a die, I had to do an animal AU. Pretty much, its Sherlock having to deal with a puppy John and going through the days. Should be fun. 
> 
> This isn't Brit-picked and or betaed. I tried to catch everything but I could've missed some.

“Go away Mycroft." 

“Nice to see you too, brother.”

Sherlock glared at Mycroft from his comfy spot in his armchair. Didn’t the fat git understand that his presence was not welcome? Keeping in on his decision that he was ignoring him, he grabbed his violin and plucked out a few notes. Mycroft didn’t seem to care that he was being ignored and sat in the opposite armchair. He crossed his legs and put down the pet carrier he had with him. Sherlock quickly noticed the object and turned his attention it. There was a shifting bundle of blankets inside from what he could see.

“Why did you bring me a live-in annoyance? I already have to deal with Lestrade begging me to help him with cases and coming in my flat on a regular basis.”he said.

Mycroft made a humming sound in his throat and tapped his umbrella on the floor.

“Ah yes, the Detective Inspector. I have already spoken with him and he agrees that your new ‘ **annoyance** ’ will be most helpful to you in the long term.”he said calmly. 

He bent down and flicked the latch to the pet carrier with a smooth motion before sitting back into a normal position. Sherlock let out a scoff at the thought of Lestrade agreeing with Mycroft for anything good for him. A black nose was the first things he saw pop out the blanket. It wrestled free of the material and clumsily tumbled out the carrier once it got its body free. Big dark blue eyes took in the new place out it carrier before seeing Mycroft.

“A puppy? A dim and slobbering annoyance indeed. Take it with you. You even have the gall to bring a wounded one to me.”Sherlock snapped, making a face as the puppy wagged its tail at Mycroft.

Its shaggy fur was a dark chocolate blond and had big triangluar ears and a thick bandage around its left shoulder. Frowning, he tried to detect the breed and was surprised to notice it was a mix. A Golden Retriver and a Chow Chow was a strange mix indeed. God, the little animal was going to shed all over the place. He detected a limp as the puppy sniffed at Mycroft’s leg, leaning against him. Sherlock wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes. Any creature that could enjoy Mycroft’s company was absolutely dim.

“Little John Watson here is no common puppy. He got shot while protecting his handler. He almost didn’t make it but he fought through the operation. I figured he would be a good puzzle seeing as he cannot complete his training as a bomb detection dog.” Mycroft explained, giving John a pat on the head.

Sherlock seemed to be a little intrigued, not that he would try to show it. Mycroft knew that John wasn’t going anywhere just by the way Sherlock's eyes lit up at the information. A decent puzzle should be fine for Sherlock to figure out.

“All the things you require to take care of John will be here tomorrow morning. Train him to help you as you see fit. Good afternoon, Sherlock.” Sherlock ignored Mycroft as he left, watching John start surveying the room.

The limp seemed to bad enough to slow the puppy’s progress. John sniffed at the furniture and rubbed against the armchair that Mycroft had vacated. He went around the room in a matter of minutes warily, sniffing various pieces of funtiture and papers lying around. He finally turned his attention to Sherlock and came to sit in front of him once he finished. Sherlock put his violin down and frowned at John as he sat in front of him. He took in the wagging tail and the slight wince that it gave in getting into a sitting position.

Having gone over what he didn't delete about puppies, he was calm and strangely friendly. What he really wanted to see was the bullet wound but it would be a while before it was healed properly. Ugh. That meant even more tedious work of taking care of John.

“Maybe you could be trained to piss on Mycroft when he comes in the door. Or maybe Anderson.”Sherlock said with a smirk, standing up to go work on his experiments.

He did have some mold cultures that he wanted to look at. John tilted his head at Sherlock’s words and let out a small bark. He followed Sherlock into the kitchen and pawed at his leg with his good forepaw. Sherlock turned his head slightly to glare at John and was surprised to be given a disapproving look. What did the little beast know? He went to start walking again but another tug had him staring down at John. He scoffed and bent down to pick up John, mindful of the shoulder. John looked up at Sherlock, nosing his chin and wagging his tail. It almost looked like he was giving the detective a timid smile.

“We’re going to have to talk about you enjoying Mycroft's presence. I'm serious about the pissing though. If not my infernal brother, at least Anderson.”


	2. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is allowing John's possessions to be moved into the flat. The only problem is that Mycroft lied about how many things there would be.

Sherlock was going to choke Mycroft with his own stupid umbrella the next time he tried to get into Baker Street. Oh, John has a minimum of boxes, he said. It would not be in the way, he said. From his position on the sofa, Sherlock glared at the last few boxes brought in by his brother’s minions. There was an annoying amount of toys, food and other nonsensical mess. Now Baker Street looked it somebody made a mess during a robbery and the robber didn't know what to take. God, he knew he should have never been intrigued by John.

His story was just interesting for a tiny thing but that was all. The trailing behind him as he walked around the flat was annoying. The only reason the unwanted attention stopped was that some of the minions knew John. John’s floppy ears would perk up at any recognizable face. He would limp over to paw at a pant leg or nudge a bare leg before giving a big doe eye look. Even the most burliest of Mycroft’s minion got a sickeningly soft look in the face and gave John a pat on the head or messed with his ears.

Sherlock hated it. He waited until the last of annoying invaders left before giving a John a perturbed look. This friendly behavior had to be stopped. It would force him to interact with the other idiots walking down the street. Sherlock found it annoying enough that John tolerated Mycroft.

“Once again, you are too friendly John. My brother’s minions or not people for you to get free affection from. The limp is not real. Stop that.”he said, watching as John stopped mid-stride by the sofa.

John turned his head to look up at Sherlock and gave an annoyed glare. As if to say, ‘Like I don’t know that, genius.’

Sherlock was affronted by the look and the growling huff that followed it. Huh, apparently he had to get the only puppy in London with an attitude. He rolled his eyes and went back into his prayer position, the conversation deemed boring. John rolled his eyes and went to going back his previous destination. It took him longer than he liked to get to the box labeled ‘TOYS’. He sniffed and pawed at the cardboard box for a few seconds, scenting it as his.

With a pained grunt, John used his right paw to attempt to push the box over.This went on for a few minutes before he noticed the taped top. John looked up at the box and then to the nearest armchair in disdain. With a wounded shoulder and his hurting back leg, there would be no jumping for a while. This would require a bit of help. Sherlock did help him yesterday in the kitchen after all, setting him on the table as he worked. Maybe he could get Sherlock to do it again.

Too busy in his own head, Sherlock was going over all the ways that Mycroft would pay. He could go and poke holes in all his umbrellas in the stupid posh flat of his. Or, he could replace them with Paddington Bear umbrellas just to make his point. John's boxes took up at least a quarter of the living room. It would be so tedious to remove and place everything in an adequate place, not to mention throwing out the boxes too. Maybe if he was extra nice, he could get Mrs. Hudson to take the boxes in the unused bedroom. Though that did bring another problem as John couldn't maneuver any kind of stairs until the wound healed.

A loud bark startled him out of his thoughts at being so loud in his ear. Opening his eyes, grey eyes found big blue ones in his vision. John stared at Sherlock and leaned forward, nudging Sherlock's cheek with his nose.

"What is it, John? You don't have to go to loo, do you? We can't leave the flat right now. The earwig experiment is at a delicate stage right now." Sherlock stated, blinking in slight surprise as John shook his head.

The puppy let out a whine before turning his head to look at the box of toys. Sherlock followed John's gaze and noticed the box. Letting his gaze come back to John, he couldn't help but smirk at the expectant look he was given. John was much smarter than he had assumed. Though it seemed that he was moving too slow as John nudged his cheek once more. Sitting up, Sherlock let out a huff of a laugh as John went to sit by the box. John was truly an intriguing specimen. He walked over to the mantle of the fireplace first to grab his letter opener before coming to the leather armchair near the box. He turned the box onto its side before slitting it open carefully and pulling back the flaps to let all the toys spill out.

Sherlock couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the abundance of squeak toys and rope. A note floated out from the top of the box. Frowning, Sherlock picked it up. There would so much violin torture for Mycroft that he would make his ears bleed. There was only so much he could take and just to spiteful, Sherlock wanted to throw the whole box in the trash. Yet, he already knew that would probably be a bit not good and John would be upset.

Ignoring John's whines for his attention, he scanned the note for all the important points. He was to take over John's training and make it something useful to him. The toys would also help with his physical therapy. Boring.

"Your obviously keen senses could be relevant for a case one day. Your nose would be good for following runaway criminals. Nor would I have to take the skull out to take to during a case." Sherlock muttered, watching John as he crumpled and threw the note on the floor.

John had scrambled back as the toys tumbled out, his tail wagging so hard that it shook his whole body. He sniffed around all his favorites before making his way to Sherlock. The limp was nowhere in sight as he butted the detective's leg in thanks. He didn't bother to wait for a response as he went to his toys to bring Sherlock his most favorite one. It was a squeaky toy scalpel with camouflage designs on it. John held it his mouth and dropped it in front of Sherlock's feet. He sat down and wagged his tail eagerly, giving his detective a playful look. Sherlock's face could almost be considered as confusion. It really didn't take a genius to figure out what John wanted.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the normality of it all and reached down to take the toy. John surprised him for the second time today by snapping the toys up in his jaws. He hobbled back, careful of his shoulder and let out a playful growl. Sherlock was sure that there was knowledge of puppies playing in such a manner. He would look up everything about puppies later on. He went to grab the toy again and John pulled back again, biting down on the toy. A loud squeak filled the air as John held on fast.

"I suppose you want me to chase you, John?" Sherlock said in an uninterested manner, not oblivious to the small smile working its way onto his face.

As he started to stand, John took off like a shot into the kitchen. His tiny claws scrambled for purchase on the tiled floors as he ran. He bumped into a kitchen table's leg as he hid under it. He gave a few more playful growls as he settled down and gnawed on the toy, wary of Sherlock's movements. Sherlock watched in barely held amusement and slowly made his way into the kitchen.

The game was on.


	3. Meeting A Nice New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a case but he can't leave John alone. Mrs. Hudson will just have to an impromptu babysitter for him.

Sherlock was more than eager today. Two headless corpses and no sign of a murder weapon? Marvelous. It was like his birthday and Christmas all in one day. He hoped that it was a serial killing. God knows that he hadn't had any in a long while. As he was about to step out the door, he stopped and frowned. He couldn't leave John alone.

He had looked up on Google that leaving new puppies in a home alone was dangerous. They would also have issues with separating. John didn't bark much if only to get his attention, wanting to go outside and to play. Most articles had said that puppies get anxious and lonely. John followed him around enough as it was. He didn't need more of a reason for him to do so. As if sensing his gaze, John lifted his head off his paws and stared from his spot on the couch.

Right.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

Said landlady hurried up the stairs and was in the doorway before Sherlock could call her again. She sighed at seeing no problem and was about to berate Sherlock if he called her for tea.

"Mrs. Hudson. I'd like you to meet John Watson. He's my new flatmate. A case has come up and I'm sure you can keep each other company. I have to go to investigate a murder. Be back in a few hours. Don't give Mrs. Hudson any trouble, John." Sherlock said as motioned to John on the couch before dashing out the door.

Mrs. Hudson called after Sherlock and sighed as the door slammed from downstairs. Really? What would have the man done if she wasn't here? She walked over to John and cooed at him. The puppy was just absolutely adorable. She wondered where Sherlock could have possibly found him. She hoped that he was an actual pet and not some kind of experiment. John's ears perked up as he looked at Mrs. Hudson, sniffing at her skirt as she came close to him.

"Hello John. I'm Mrs. Hudson. Aren't you a cute thing? I hope Sherlock is taking good care of you. Heaven knows that the man can barely take care of himself. Doesn't eat or sleep a wink that man." she said as ruffled the fur on John's head.

John nuzzled her hand and lifted a paw as if to shake hands. It startled a laugh out of her at his politeness. She shook the tiny paw and lifted John into her arms with a careful hand. She didn't want to aggravate whatever kind of injury he had under the bandage. John licked at her hand and wagged his tail a few times, curious as of their new destination. He was enjoying the soothing tone of Mrs. Hudson's voice.

"And with all those nasty experiments. I hope he's not doing anything to you. Maybe you can help him be a bit more friendly. Sherlock can get so lonely."she said as she walked downstairs back to her own home.

She put John down as they got to her flat and closed the door behind her. She figured that any pet Sherlock would have wouldn't be any trouble in the slightest.

"Now you make yourself at home while I go make some lunch, dear."

John looked up at Mrs. Hudson and watched as she walked into the kitchen. He decided that the first thing of business would be to sniff out the flat. Check for all exits and the new scents he was encountering. He started with the the living room and rubbed his body on the couch as he passed. He could smell herbs, tea, flowery perfume and sweet biscuits. His old master used to sneak some to his litter mates at his other home. He did miss his old home with his litter mates though he hoped that his new home was good too.

Finishing his inspection of the living room, he headed for the kitchen. The smell of bacon brought him to Mrs. Hudson's side. He raised his nose and inhaled heavily, his tail wagging at the thought of getting some bacon. John leaned against Mrs. Hudson's leg and let out a tiny huff. Her presence was soothing and let him forget about the slight pain in his foreleg. Noticing that she looked down at him, John kept the gaze and wagged his tail.

His old master said never to beg for treats or food. That what was selfish dogs did. He had to earn a treat and he knew the best way to do that was be good. Sherlock-master would be proud of him and maybe play with him again. Sherlock-master was indeed strange to him since he was always messing with funny smelling liquids and things that smelled like death. He also would sit for hours and not say anything or stare at nothing. He had to nip him the past few days every time he needed to go outside.

Mrs. Hudson snapped him out of his thoughts as she placed a bowl of water next to him. He licked her hand in gratitude as he took a few laps. She worked around John, fixing a bacon butty for herself and moving into the living room.

"Here you go, dear. Don't tell Sherlock but you could use a treat. Come watch some telly with me."she said, passing John a piece of bacon as she sat down on the couch.

John barked in thanks and snapped up the meat in his jaws. He butted Mrs. Hudson's leg and laid by her feet as he ate. The hours passed as the two spent each other company, eating various snacks and watching bad telly. John decided to take a nap after getting a bellyful of bacon, water and a nice soothing pet on his back from Mrs. Hudson. When he woke, the first thing he noticed that a scent he was getting familiar with was in the building.

Sherlock-master was home! He scrambled up from his spot on the floor and rushed to the door. He barked a few times with his tail going crazy behind him. He heard a laugh behind him as Mrs. Hudson bent down to scoop him up before opening the door. Sherlock was standing in the doorway, already poised to knock. He stared at Mrs. Hudson before looking at his squirming puppy.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. John here hasn't given you much trouble. Goodnight Mrs. Hudson. Say goodnight, John."Sherlock said as he waited to be handed John.

John leaned forward and licked Mrs. Hudson's face with enthusiasm. He was reluctant to leave but he knew he would see her again. He only stopped as he was passed off to Sherlock. He licked Sherlock's face instead to show how much he missed him. Sherlock sputtered and pushed John's face away with a frown.

"He missed you, Sherlock. He's a good pup. I'm sure you two will get along well. Goodnight,dears."she said as she gave Sherlock a pat on the shoulder before closing her door.

Sherlock looked down at John as he turned to head up to his flat. He let out a sigh as John licked his chin and buried his nose into his scarf. It was going to be covered in dog hair. He didn't want to admit that there was a fuzzy feeling in his chest at John's enthusiastic greeting.

He hated to admit it but it was nice to have someone waiting for him to come home.


	4. A Stressful Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for John to take a bath. The last thing on John's agenda is to get into a bath. Sherlock doesn't care in the slightest and will do everything he can to get the stubborn puppy in the tub.

"John Watson! Come out from that couch right now!"

John whined and moved further under the couch. He was not going to come out for Sherlock-master. His human was being perfectly unreasonable. It had taken him a while to navigate the flat and under the couch was a place he had cataloged where Sherlock-master couldn't reach him. Even if he was a taller human like Mycroft-friend, it would be a stretch for him. He shifted and knew he would have to find a new hiding place soon. The crouch was putting strain on his wound and limp, pain shooting up his hind and foreleg.

They were both annoying hindrances. Though he had to admit, Sherlock-master was pretty smart. He even did some more strange things with the funny smelling liquids again. It reminded him of his old master training him to find the bad things. Sherlock-master wouldn't try to get him if he didn't want to. The human was nice most of the time, picking him up and letting him rest in his lap when doing his 'experyments'. Whatever those were. Even him explaining that his limp not being real wasn't as annoying as the week past.

He knew it was fake too. John just didn't know how to get rid of it. Yet, out of all of those things so far, it was easy to deal with. What John would not tolerate was water. No baths. Ever. The line was drawn right there.

It was up there with being squeezed too tight and nightmares. He was a puppy. Puppies didn't take baths. All those funny smells coming from the sudsy liquids were disgusting. The water didn't even taste good! It was wasteful. The fake smells covered his natural scent.

He noticed human females wore things like that. Even Mrs. Hudson-friend smelled that way. She always smelled like flowers.

"John!"

At hearing his name, John whined and barked at Sherlock. He was not coming out. So what if his fur was getting a little browner? He could lick himself clean. Sherlock-master was being silly and kept saying that sleeping on the floor wasn't keeping him clean. Still, that wouldn't make him leave his hiding place. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Sherlock going to the side of the couch.

The detective laid out on the floor and reached an arm under the couch to get John. He snatched the puppy by his good hind leg and tugged him carefully from out his hiding spot. John yelped in surprise and squirmed his hardest the whole way. He tried digging his claws into the floor, biting onto dangling fabrics under the couch but nothing worked. Sherlock managed to catch John and wrapped his hand around his middle for better stability.

"Don't bother squirming, John. I thought you were better than this. You will be cleaned." Sherlock said as he pulled himself off the floor.

John whimpered and whined the whole way at losing the battle. Sherlock-master was just being cruel. He let out a huff as they entered the bathroom and he was set in the empty sink. His hopes of escape were dashed when the door was closed. John could see the small basin in the tub full of sudsy water and pouted. He hoped it was at least warm. Sherlock came to stand in front of the sink and rubbed his fingers across John's head to comfort him.

"Don't you look at me like that, John. You knew this was coming. The only good thing about all this I get to see your wound. Now hold still."he said, reaching into the medicine cabinet to get a small pair scissors.

John growled in annoyance and allowed for Sherlock to cut off the gauze. He didn't really like anyone touching his scar. The wound still hurt and he couldn't move his leg as perfectly as he used to. His old-master said it had hit the bone and it was gonna get better eventually. He jumped when he felt fingers tracing around the wound. It was still a dark pink, inflamed with healing and starting to get the first tracing of white skin that would leave a scar.

It was like spiderwebs stretching over the top of his left leg, slightly going over his chest. The exit part of the wound was luckily less gruesome. A small star burst was the only evidence that a bullet had went through him. Sherlock stared at the wound carefully and was careful not to touch any part. He didn't want to infect John after all.

"Magnificent. Your wound suggest that the shooter was standing above you, probably from a second landing. A pistol would be easiest from the distance. You would have been trying to protect your master no doubt. Backing up at the last second, the shot went through your shoulder instead of that head of yours."Sherlock explained, having procured his magnifying glass from his dressing gown and examining the wound.

John's eyes widened at the words that came from Sherlock. That was amazing! How could Sherlock-master know all of that? He wasn't even there! He was proud of him. No other human that he met (other than Mycroft-friend) had been able to do such a thing. Without any warning, John licked Sherlock's face enthusiastically.

His tail was wagging so hard that he shook his whole lower body. Sherlock sputtered in surprise and stood. Even pushing John's eager tongue away didn't stop the puppy. John found that it was just more ways to lavish his praise to his master. He licked his hand and wrist, only stopping when the sleeve of the dressing gown got in his way. He looked up at Sherlock who was giving him a perturb look at being covered with his kisses. The detective only stared at him with a curious look as he wiped his face.

Didn't he like the praise? John didn't understand why he looked unhappy where his scent smelled of happiness and intrigue.

"John. You know how much I abhor your spit. Its disgusting. Are you trying to tell me your're amazed by my deductions?", Sherlock stopped when John nodded, "...Though I guess that could be an exception to the matter."

John barked a few times to see a quirk of a smile on his master's face and allowed himself to be picked up. He was more than happy to note that the bath water was warm like he hoped. A few happy huffs came from John as Sherlock knelt and proceeded to give him a good scrub down. A warm bath, a small casualty with John wetting the whole bathroom shaking his body dry, and redressing the wound took a good chunk of the rest of the afternoon. John scrambled out the loo feeling like a new puppy. He was aware of Sherlock going to change his clothes after he gotten him wet shaking himself dry.

John wasn't sorry about it even if Sherlock scolded him. His scent smelled of fun and he heard the man chuckle a few times at him. He busied himself with his favorite camouflage rope and waited for his Sherlock-master to return. Sherlock came back dressed in a fresh shirt and pajama bottoms with his blue dressing gown draped across his shoulders. As he walked to the kitchen, he scooped John up with one hand. Nestling the puppy to his chest, Sherlock headed into the kitchen to get John some food. John squirmed to get comfortable in Sherlock's arms, resting his head on his shoulder and snuffling his ear with his nose. He already knew that he was about to get a tasty meal and hoped that it was some of that yummy chicken Sherlock-master shared with him.

He kept his ears perked up as cabinets were opened and as a last resort, the fridge. He lifted his head when Sherlock grumbled about the uselessness of eating and stood still in the middle of the kitchen.

"It seems we've run out of food for you, John. Mycroft obviously sent me a little food for you to make me go outside and go shopping. If you only ran on little amounts of food like myself. I only see one solution to our problem." Sherlock grumbled as he turned his head to look at John.

John whined at the news, wondering what Sherlock was going to do. He stomach was starting to rumble and there was no food in the flat. Was he going to let him go hungry? Or feed him something yucky like the dead flesh in the big cold box?

"Oh don't look so pitiful, John."he said with a smirk twisting onto his lips.

"Mrs. Hudson! Did I ever tell you that John and I love your cooking?"


	5. Detective Inspectors and Other Nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is more than happy to still have a high after solving a case. But Lestrade had to come and ruin it all. John looks too happy for more company to be in the flat.

Sherlock was still buzzing from his last case and flopped down on the couch. There was nothing better than solving a great puzzle. It was better than any drug. He took a deep breath and chuckled to the ceiling. No idiot could outsmart him. Though, some could make some decent puzzles for him to solve. He was pretty sure that even John could come up with something better to entertain him with. Speaking of John, where was he?

Usually once he got in the door of the flat, John was waiting from him at the top of the stairs. He more than once almost tripped from John’s enthusiastic greeting. Sherlock stood and divested himself of his coat and scarf, looking around the living room for his puppy.

“John? Where are you?”

Sherlock listened quietly for any sounds and heard John’s tiny scraping the floor from the vicinity of his bedroom. The pup’s limp was especially bad today and he had apparently been woken from a nap. John yawned and stretched shaking out his fur. He took his time walking to Sherlock (instead of usual exuberant motions at seeing him) and rubbed his body against his master’s leg.

Sherlock looked down at John and felt his insides flutter. If he were anyone else, he would have cooed and scooped John into his arms. But, Sherlock Holmes didn’t do ‘cooing’. Instead, he bent down to a knee and scratched John’s neck and ears.

“You never sleep in the afternoon. Favoring the right side today, making extra sure to keep weight off your left foreleg. Red rimmed eyes and not greeting me at the door from lack of sleep. Only reason for that would be nightmares.”Sherlock said, mostly to himself.

Could dogs get nightmares? John had been through a traumatic event when getting his injury. He would have to look more into that. It should be an interesting experiment documenting John’s sleeping patterns. John licked and nuzzled his hand at his deductions again, showing that he must’ve been impressed. He made sure to pick John up around his middle and tucked him into his arms.

“I rather you not ask me to pick you up later. You can me check the progress on the liver I injected with salmonella. Just don’t attempt to eat it.” Sherlock said as he stood.

Before he could even get in the kitchen, footsteps started to come up the stairs. Usually he ignored anyone coming up the stairs (Mrs. Hudson was a better guard than a doorbell) but he already knew who it was.

“Lestrade. Didn't I just solve a case for you? The sister did after all.”Sherlock said as the DI came into the doorway.

Lestrade seemed annoyed with him for some reason. He hadn't stolen any evidence from the case (except old evidence from cold cases) and he was dismissed from the scene.

Lestrade opened his mouth to say something but his eyes traveled to John. He shut his mouth and took a minute to compose himself. Sherlock didn't see the big deal. Was it such a shock to see him taking care of someone?

“Mycroft didn't tell me he sent you the dog already. What’s his name?”

“Mycroft always forgets to inform people about things that don’t relate to food. His name is John Watson.”

Sherlock finished his journey into the kitchen and put John on the table. John ignored him and seemed to perk up at Lestrade. His nose was working overtime at having a new visitor. He gave him a wary bark as he sat at the edge of the table. When Lestrade stuck his hand out to sniff, John took a few before nudging his hand. His tail wagged behind him and he gave Lestrade a doggy grin.

Lestrade smiled and proceeded to pet John. He couldn't help but admit that John was adorable. Hell, those big blue eyes could probably even persuade Sherlock. This was just proof that he wasn't the so called sociopath he claimed to be. Lestrade ran his fingers down John’s back and made sure to avoid the gauze on his leg. Jesus, he really hoped that Sherlock wasn't the cause of the injury. The last thing that needed to happen was the madman experimenting on animals.

“Hello, John. I’m Lestrade. You've got some pretty eyes. Bet you make all the women swoon, huh?” he laughed as John rolled onto to his side as if to say ‘pet me more’.

Sherlock chose that moment to acknowledge Lestrade again and gave him a look. Lestrade wasn't sure he ever saw that look before but it sure looked like jealously. What confirmed it was how fast his scooped John up and placed him on the counter. Who knew he would live to see the day Sherlock was jealous of anyone?

“I’m assuming you’re not here as a social visit. Especially since it seems my fat brother is taking you out to dinner tonight so you came over here as last minute. What do you want?” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at John as the pup barked at him.

Lestrade stared and fought back a blush from his business being stated. He was surprised Sherlock didn't even keep going after John barked at him. Maybe the pup was a good influence already. Mycroft would be happy.

“I’ll ignore that. I want the evidence from the Oakley case and the cold case files you too. You've got to stop doing that.” he said as he gave Sherlock a hard stare.

The detective rolled his eyes and started to open his mouth to no doubt insult him. John huffed and growled at Sherlock, conveying to not be rude. Once again, Sherlock rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut. He went to his desk in the living room, taking the files off his laptop before handing them to Lestrade.

“There. John’s saved you from hearing some sound advice. I don’t have the Oakley evidence and before you ask, those are all the files. Check with the idiots you have on your team and it will turn up. If that’s all, I have experiments to run.” Sherlock said, obviously dismissing Lestrade.

He went to the fridge and started to rummage for his latest liver. Lestrade rolled his eyes and tucked the files under his arm. He wished that Sherlock wasn't such a pain in the arse. Shaking his head, he started to head for the door. Before he could get one foot out, John whined at him. Lestrade couldn't help but let a smile come to his face as he doubled back to give John a pat.

“Didn't say goodbye, did I? Your pain in the arse master should know by now it’s against the law to steal from the Yard. See you, John.”he nearly cooed, leaving with a laugh as John nipped his fingers playfully.

Sherlock didn't move from the fridge until he heard the door slam shut from downstairs. He placed his liver on the table and picked John up from the counter. He narrowed his eyes at his puppy and frowned at the disappointment look he seemed to get in return.

“A bit not good?” John gave a nod in reply and huffed. “Don’t be rude. If he wasn't so horribly stupid, he wouldn't need my help. Being with Mycroft probably lowered his intelligence even more.” he muttered as he went to his chair.

Sitting down and placing John in his lap, Sherlock started to check the progress on his experiment. Lestrade’s annoying and unwanted visit put him off track.

“If you weren't so friendly, he would have been gone in seconds. I really have to train you to attack intruders.”he said, fighting the smile and warm feelings that came through his body as John nuzzled his stomach.


	6. Issues of Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mrs. Hudson out for the week, Sherlock has no babysitter for John. Lestrade comes with a case and Sherlock has no choice but to take John along.

Sherlock frowned as he looked at the receipt for the pet shop. Was there really a reason dog food was so expensive? If he felt like it, he could make a better meal for John than what he bought at the store. He didn't realize that there was so many brands and varieties out there. Though, the ten brands of wet and dry dog food should give him enough to experiment on to make a healthy mix for John. He unlocked the front door and walked inside the flat, hefting the bags of food onto his forearms. It wasn't long until he heard tiny claws scrabbling for purchase on the floor above. John skidded to a halt at the top of the staircase, his tongue hanging out.

He barked happily as Sherlock made his way upstairs to their flat. Sherlock tried not to trip as John ran around his legs once he made it upstairs and walked into the living room. Heading straight for the kitchen, Sherlock dropped the bags by the counter and went to hang up his coat. John rubbed his leg as he passed and sniffed at the bag. Sticking his head into one, he huffed before turning to look for his owner. Sherlock finished hanging up his coat and turned to see John waiting for him patiently.

Could he ask for a better flatmate? He bent down one knee and let John clamor into his arms. John squirmed a little to get comfortable, nudging Sherlock's face for more attention.

"Hello, John. I bought a variety of products for you to try from the shop. I don't understand the need for inept shop clerks. They couldn't even answer my questions about the chemicals they used to treat the food." Sherlock said.

John nuzzled Sherlock's neck and raised himself on his hind legs, placing his paws on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock huffed and relented to the sniffing and the licking all over his chin. It was a routine that John seemed to revel in. Sherlock figured that John was figuring out where he had went. He ruffled the fur on his back and stood up carefully. He didn't want to dislodge John after all. The domestic moment they were sharing was broken by the sound of Sherlock's mobile going off.

John perked his ears up and looked over Sherlock's shoulder to peek at his mobile on the coffee table. Sherlock carried John as he went into the living room to fetch it. He moved the pup to his other arm to free his hand and took a look at the text he was sent. Wonderful. A case. Pity he wouldn't be able to work on his dog food experiment right away.

**Double homicide downtown. Bodies have some weird writings on them. Coming? GL**

Sherlock was already racing ahead with his thoughts at the signs of a case. If he was lucky, it could be a serial killer running around. He hadn't gotten any interesting cases like this since the beheaded corpses a few months ago. That had been an exciting case. It took some real passion and strength to lop off a head. Sending off a text that he was on his way, he put John on the floor. He brushed off some hairs on his shirt before reaching for his coat. He was about to pluck it off the rack until a loud whine stopped him. He turned his head and inwardly cringed at John's gaze.

John was doing something very disturbing with his eyes that made Sherlock feel all twisty inside. His ears were drooping and his tail was hanging low. He couldn't leave his puppy alone. He was still much too young (not to mention those eyes). Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister and Mycroft was out the question. The only option was to take John along with him.

He was only a year old but still had some military training. Plus, Sherlock started to teach him to track certain scents in the past few weeks. It was decided then. Lestrade would be grateful for the extra help (if he wanted it or not).

"Go get your leash, John. There's no time to lose."he said.

John quickly jumped up and ran into Sherlock's bedroom. He sped back to Sherlock's feet and dropped his harness with leash attached in front of him. Sherlock hooked him up, put the leash around the wrist and tucked John under his arm. John was wiggling in excitement at being to go somewhere new with his master. His little nose twitched at the scents that hit it once stepping foot outside. Sherlock fought back a smile at seeing John so excited as he put him down, hailing for a taxi. As if like magic, one pulled up to the curb and Sherlock wasted no time in opening the door.

John hopped in as Sherlock sat down, ignoring the cabbie's look at having a dog with him. John was clean and it wasn't like he was going to mess in the cab. Sherlock said the address and rested against the door as the cab took off. John was the perfect example of a trained dog, laying over the detective's feet in wait for their destination. As if feeling his gaze, John glanced up at him and wagged his tail before resting his head back onto his paws. The ride was short to the crime scene, Sherlock making the cabbie pull to the edge of where he could the red and blue lights.

He handed the cabbie a few notes and opened the door, hopping out after John. Sherlock walked towards the taped off scene with John walking in front of him, his limp barely noticeable.

John looked curious at all the activity and was more than ready to do anything to help his master. Sherlock approached the tape and started to pull it up for him to pass before being stopped.

"Hold up, Freak. What do you think your doing here?" Donovan said as she placed her hand on the tape to prevent Sherlock from coming in.

"Lestrade specifically asked for my help. I believe that gives me access to come through. Not that you are doing anything to help solve the crime, obviously." Sherlock said.

John barked at him and sat by his side, giving him an incredulous look. He was getting a lot of looks like that from the puppy lately. What? It wasn't his fault that everyone else was just so brainless. Donovan's attention strayed away from him and to John. Her eyes widened, looking back and forth between the two. She gripped the police tape tighter as if to fight the urge to pet John. She didn't even want to know how someone like Sherlock came across such an adorable thing.  Her eyes caught the gauze and wondered what was that all about. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Donovan as she made a small noise as John gave her his signature grin (ears perking up, the corners of his mouth would turn up slightly and his tongue would hang out his mouth).

At realizing that Sherlock was looking at her, Donovan cleared her throat and called out on her radio announcing that Sherlock was there. Sherlock smirked and went through, tugging John along with him. She watched Sherlock walk away with the puppy and pinched the bridge of her nose. God, for all she knew the freak were using the puppy for experiments. He didn't deserve an animal with such big blue eyes and such a sweet little smile. Donovan wouldn't question Sherlock about his personal life or why he was even bring the dog on a crime scene. She just hoped Lestrade knew what he was doing.


	7. Issues of Work Part 2

Sherlock walked into the alleyway with John, wondering what the deal was with Donovan. He always figured that she had a soft spot for dogs if the calendar on her desk had anything to do with it. He didn't want John anywhere near her. He would probably catch something than would be deadly to animals. And the last thing he wanted to know was if stupidity could affect animals as well as people. Coming closer to where the body awaited for them, he rolled his eyes as Anderson came to block his path.

"What are you doing here, Freak? You can't come and contaminate a crime scene! And you got the nerve to bring a dog with you?"Anderson sneered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Anderson and was about to insult him but was cut off by a growl. John put himself in front of Sherlock and growled up at Anderson. Saliva dripped from his muzzle and his lips curled back to show an impressive amount of teeth. Blue eyes stared up at Anderson as if daring him to insult Sherlock again. Anderson took a step back in surprise and mild fright at the sudden hostility. He opened his mouth to say something to Sherlock but moved out the way instead.

John waited until Anderson was out of sight before calming down. He licked his chops of drool and shook himself to smooth the fur down on his body. He looked up to Sherlock with a wagging tail and butted him gently with his head. Sherlock, for once, could say he was surprised by John. He didn't expect John to get protective of him over some simple idiot like Anderson. No one was usually concerned with what any names he was called. He could brush it of as he was ten times smarter than the majority of the Yarders. But John was looking at him as if he expected to be lavished with praise.

Bending down, he gave him a small pat on the head. If he could run off idiots like Anderson, he would be more than useful to him. Sherlock walked to stand by the bodies and raised an eyebrow at the writing on the torso of each victim. So far, everything was very interesting.

"Sherlock? Why did you bring John along? Are you mad?" Lestrade put his hand up once Sherlock started to answer, "Don't answer that. You know that could get hair everywhere."

Sherlock shrugged and told John to sit, draping the leash around his shoulders. What was he supposed to do? Leaving John alone had not been an option. He couldn't get down the stairs yet with his healing wound and he could get into Sherlock's experiments. Last thing he needed was John getting into his newest liver with the strain of E.coli in it. He didn't bother to answer the question as he went to check over the bodies. He had more important things to do than Lestrade questioning his pet handling skills.

John watched Sherlock as he worked, somewhat curious of his methods. He sat by Lestrade's side and leaned on him with a wagging tail. Lestrade was amused by the greeting and bent down to scratch at his ears. If only Sherlock could be so kind to him. He watched the genius work with John, an ear open for any deductions that the man would come up with. Sherlock had taken out his pocket magnifier and was trying to figure out what the writing was. It looked like some kind of cuneiform.

"What have you got Sherlock? I need anything that you have."Lestrade said.

Sherlock stood up and circled the bodies once more before speaking. "Cult ritual gone wrong. The leader panicked when she realized that cuts went too deep and the sacrifices bled out. The head nurse from the practice up the street is the culprit."he explained.

Lestrade looked at him in disbelief and wondered how he got that from two random bodies. Sherlock gave him his typical 'are you an idiot?' look and started to go in depth about the smell of antiseptic or some other nonsense. When the detective went to bend down and press a hand to the chest of one of the bodies, John barked at him.

Sherlock startled and watched as John rushed over to him, no limp in sight. He sniffed around both bodies with his head low and ears back. He shared a questioning look with Lestrade and removed his hand. John didn't let up and nudged into Sherlock path as he went to examine the other body. Sherlock figured that John was on to something and backed up out his path. John circled both bodies once more before lying down between them.

"What is he doing, Sherlock? Did he find something or did you train him to do that?"Lestrade asked as he took a few steps towards the bodies.

He didn't get too far as John gave off a warning growl at him. Sherlock had a thoughtful look on his face before he realized why John was acting like that. Stupid! He had even read the file on his training, even if it had gone unfinished. He could smack himself for not seeing it earlier.

"No but his former handler had. That is his sign for that theirs a bomb in the area. They're in the bodies, of course. That's why he didn't want me to touch the chest. It's probably activated by a pressure switch."Sherlock said, watching Lestrade turn as white as a sheet.

The DI rubbed a hand on his face and took a step back. Good thing he didn't let his team touch the bodies and only take pictures. They would have been blown sky high by now. He watched as John wag his tail once they got the message. The pup walked back to Sherlock's side and waited for some form of praise. Lestrade wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it for himself. Sherlock bent down and scratched John behind the ears, murmuring soft praises to him. It was strangely tender of Sherlock and Lestrade felt like he was intruding on a moment.

Still, he had much bigger things to do after all. "You can go, Sherlock. Thanks for the help too, John."he said as he gave John a pat before barking out orders and calling for the bomb squad.

The detective and his pup watched Lestrade walk out the alleyway and leaving the two. Sherlock attached the leash to John's harness and stood up. The case had been easy to solve but it was much more interesting to see John in action. Maybe he would keep up with John's training and add his own. Ugh. It would mean having to talk to Mycroft and see what if he could get a trainer for him. He figured that Lestrade would deny him access to one of the Yard's trainers.

Plus, if this kept up, he would be able to take John on more cases. He was already a very helpful assistant. Scaring Anderson was just a bonus along with his skills. He strode out the alleyway with John by his side, ignoring the stares that he got as he walked past. John was his focal point and if he hadn't thought it possible, was getting much more interesting.


	8. Drugs Bust Gone Arwy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock isn't home yet and John is all alone in the flat. Well, was until a impromptu drugs bust. John doesn't like all the strangers in his territory and will make sure everyone knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to move this from AUSherlock tumblr seeing as I wrote it and the project is on a tentative hiatus. But, I have not given up on this. So for now, all the info on Tiny Companion can be found on (www.noxtorious.tumblr.com).
> 
> So follow me and give me suggestions as to what to write or just leave an ask.
> 
> Update: Redid the whole entire chapter so don't forget to read it again. I think its better than before.

**Prompt: Drugs bust + John not liking all those police digging around in the flat. Bonuses for peeing on Anderson.**  (Suggestion from [JanecShannon](../../../users/JanecShannon/pseuds/JanecShannon))

 

John yawned as he rolled onto his side. He snuggled into the warm spot Sherlock's body left. He figured that the detective left again judging by stale his scent was in the flat.  Well, it was fine. Sherlock-master was on some errand and it was taking up his attention. Not too much of his attention that he hadn't forgotten to pet and talk to him. This wouldn't be the first time John was left alone in the flat. He was just starting to get used to being by himself.

Even before with his littermates, John liked the solitude. There was food and his toys to play with if he got restless. He licked his paws, grooming himself as he gazed around the living room. If he barked loud enough, he was sure that Ms. Hudson-mum would come. John's wasn't silly enough to brave the steps when he could barely get down form the armchair by himself. Sherlock-master should have left the loud picture box on. His human would shout at the people on it most of the time. It was quite entertaining.

Then again, a nap sounded quite like a good idea. He wriggled his body to get settled, jumping as he heard someone slam open the front door. John rolled to his feet and sat up fast, perking his ears up. A growl worked its way out his throat at the smell of intruders in his home. The fur on the back of his neck bristled as he hopped down carefully from the sofa. It was just like before with his old master. He wouldn't left anyone take from Sherlock-master. It didn't matter if he was there or not. 

John put his nose in the air to figure out if he knew the intruders. The only one he could recognize was Lestrade-friend. He was more familiar with the smell of coffee, cigarettes and the faint smell of Mycroft-friend on his body. But, why was he here when Sherlock-master wasn't? He walked to the doorway and let the growl he'd been holding come out. He barked a few more times for good measure to warn that they were in his territory. 

He could hear the voices on the stairwell go silent. Good. They understood his message. John was just about to contemplate on taking his nap again when Lestrade came to the top of the steps. The DI looked surprised but happy to see him. Lestrade-friend wasn't an intruder. The strangers behind him were though. John could smell frustration and tiredness off Lestrade now and was worried.

He wanted to help him. He just hoped the DI wasn't too tired to give him a good head scratch. John gave a friendly bark to get his attention as he lowered the front of his body to the ground. He added a tail wag to appear a little less threatening. Lestrade stared down at him with a chuckle, bending down to pick him up. John allowed it and licked a long stripe from his chin to his forehead. It startled a laugh out the man and John was rewarded with a scratch under the chin. 

"Hey John, all by yourself? No need to guard the door from us. Your git of a master is keeping evidence from me again so I'm coming to get it by the ways of a drug bust."

John tilted his head at the words, an officer in Lestrade's group cooing at the motion. Drugs? Oh! The bad things that humans had and sometimes hurt themselves for. He also knew that drugs made humans act strange. His sister had been getting trained to sniff out those kinds of bad things. John didn't know what drugs smelled like but he was sure that he would have noticed Sherlock bringing foreign items into the flat. The thought of Sherlock-master doing drugs was unsettling. Lestrade seemed to take John's silence for an okay for his team to proceed. 

The small group spread out among the flat, digging through Sherlock's possessions. Lestrade carried him to the leather armchair (which was strictly Sherlock's armchair) to sit. He wiggled in Lestrade's grip once he sat, curling in his lap. John knew he was much too small to actually prevent anyone from doing much. On the plus side, Lestrade was really nice and could get that insistent scratch under his chin. He would just watch what the strangers were touching. He huffed and growled if he thought one of the officers did something intrusive. Growling, John saw Anderson messing with Sherlock's chemistry set.

Squirming, John got out of Lestrade's lap and jumped down to the floor. He was learning to compensate for his foreleg with the wound now. It was his hind leg that was giving him so much trouble. Smoothing down his fur with a shake, John made his way over to the kitchen table. The last thing he was going to do was let of the officers potentially ruin his master's possessions.


	9. Drugs Bust Gone Arwy Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Redid the previous chapter so make sure to check it out.

John snarled at Anderson as the man picked up a beaker to test it. Didn't the idiot get it? If he was correct, it was the same one that always gave them trouble. He barked at Anderson as he was ignored and pushed at his leg. Anderson looked down at him to see what was the problem. A sneer crossed his lips as he pushed John away with his foot. 

"Go away, you little furball. Don't you see I'm working?" he snapped. 

John yelped in surprise as he was pushed. He growled out a warning and nearly sunk his teeth into Anderson's ankle. John knew Sherlock-master would probably approve but he couldn't. He knew dogs that bit would get punished. With a snort, he settled under the table so he could have a better lookout. As he kept vigilant, John wasn't aware how much time had past. It was only after debating on getting Lestrade to scratch his belly that he heard familiar footsteps.

Jumping up, John rushed to the door with a happy howl leaving his muzzle. Sherlck stood in the doorway with a plastic bag in hand, frowning when he saw Lestrade's team in his flat.

"What is the meaning of this, Lestrade?" Sherlock said, bending down to get to John's level. 

The pup went through his usual business of examining Sherlock and greeting him. Sherlock didn't seem to notice that the officers stopped what they were doing to watch. To them, Sherlock was an unfeeling pyschopath. Seeing him with a pet that was not only protective but overly affectionate to the detective was shocking. Sherlock let John nuzzle the crook of his neck before patting the pup on the head. John gave him a parting lick before going to watch the Yarders again. Sherlock quickly turned his attention back to Lestrade for his answer.

The DI didn't bother getting up from the armchair. "Drugs bust because you stole evidence again."

"Please spare me. I went looking for the uniform the pumber had. Not that you would have found it." Sherlock snapped. 

He threw the plastic bag filled with mud caked clothes at Lestrade's feet. Sherlock could care less about mess up his floor but the smell did seem to bother John. Going through a dumpster didn't mean he would come out smelling like roses. He made the comment to John who was covering his nose with his paws. John rolled his eyes at him and would be much better if the bag was gone. Watching Lestrade hand off the evidence, John wondered why he still smelled like fustration.

"Mind being more specific? I mean, I wouldn't want to know such vital information any other time."Lestrade said sarcastically.

"Don't be simple. It was a few blocks away in an alleyway dumpster. It wasn't too far off from the crime scene. You can figure out who it was from there. Now get out of my flat. I have work to do."

Lestrade looked like he wanted to tell Sherlock off but held against it. The man did go through a dumpster for evidence. Frankly, it still wasn't the grossest places Sherlock had went to get evidence. 

"Why? How don't we know its not your clothes? You could be the murderer for all we know. A freak like you is a serial killer waiting to happen."Anderson said from the kitchen.

He made a face at finding a fridge full of body parts once again. The freak could be a cannibal for all they knew. Little did Anderson know that he would come to regret those words. John had quite enough of the rude man insulting his human. John really didn't like him. Still, biting him was out of the question. Anderson was in his terriotry and John had every right to get him out. With that final thought, John walked next to Anderson and lifted his leg.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

Sherlock was going back and forth with Anderson, insulting him at every turn. Really, it was unfathomable how stupid a person could be. He was just about to dimiss him when when one of the officers let out a shout of disgust. She jumped back and just pointed down to the floor where Anderson was standing. Anderson looked down and immedialty let out his own sound of disgust. 

"Freak! Your stupid dog pissed all over my legs!"

Sherlock looked down where Anderson was complaining and felt a smirk coming on his lips. Anderson's trousers were completely covered with a dark stain on the bottom. John didn't do anything in halves. The idiot did bring it upon himself. He wasn't the only one who found it amusing either. Lestrade was laughing into his hand, trying to pass it off as a cough. A few of the other officers were trying to hide their amusement as well. His puppy had a triumphant air around him at Anderson's expense. 

John pranced to his side, his tounge lolling out his mouth. His tail thumped on the ground in delight at making Sherlock happy. Sherlock bent down and picked up John, keeping the pup from licking his face with a steady arm. 

"John is eons beyond your intellect, Anderson. Its obvious that he dislikes you as much as I do." Sherlock said, patting John on the head.

"You taught him to do it! You and your stupid dog are freaks!"

John growled at Anderson at those words, making the man throw his hands in the air in fustration. He ranted on filing a case to put John down before stomping out the flat. The rest of the group followed him in a mix of amusement and disgust. Lestrade was the last to leave, rubbing John between the ears before he walked out the door. He told both of them to stay out of trouble. He would make sure Anderson cooled down before he actually did make a case. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and waved Lestrade off. Like Anderson would actually go through with filing a case against John. He was glad when he heard the door close, signaling their depature. He could finally have his flat in peace. It luckily wasn't in too much disarry from the fake drugs bust. Besides, Sherlock had more important things to do with his time than cleaning his flat. Settling John on his shoulder, Sherlock made his way to the bathroom to get rid of the smell of dumpster off of him. 

"Good on you, John. I believe you've earned one of Angelo's dinners." John responded with slobbering Sherlock's ear in saliva at the prospect of a treat.


	10. John's Special Day or Sherlock's Worst Day He Can Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants to have a perfect day, Sherlock rather sleep for once in his life and Mycroft likes to meddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez has it really been so long? RL gets in the way every time. But, on the upside, I have not abandoned these! I just try to work on this when I have free time.

John started his day in Sherlock-master's bed. It was just like any regular day after all. He would find his spot on the right side of the bed in his pillow. It was soft and plush, smelling just like him. It was perfect. Most of the time, he would go to bed alone since Sherlock-master was always working on weird human things.

Today was special because his human was in the bed! They had just finished a spectacular case with a client with missing jewels and he had helped. He had thought it was funny that a human thought jumping in the water would make him lose his scent. John noticed that his human would sleep all day after cases but not today. Today John wanted to do something. Maybe they could to the big green place with the other dogs or get a visit from Mycroft-friend. Or even get a visit from his favorite DI.

He just seemed to know the right places to scratch him. That equated enough for an even better day for him. Yawning, John rolled onto his side to stare at Sherlock's sleeping face. He huffed and nosed the man in the cheek to wake him. Sherlock didn't even move. John tried again and licked his cheek to see if that would work. His master only rolled over and took the sheets with him.

Sherlock-master had to get up. He needed to feed him and get some food himself. He was sure that humans were supposed to eat whenever their stomach growled. First things first for his special day. They had to get some food. John rose from his pillow and walked over Sherlock's body until he could reach his face.

Sherlock-master thought he could ignore him by burying his face into the pillow. That only spurred John on. He was just trying to wake his master after all. Waiting until Sherlock rolled onto his back, John pounced on his chest and licked his face with determination. Sherlock woke up sputtering and tried to pull the sheets over his head to stop John. Unfortunately for him, John positioned himself right on top of the sheets. Not even a hand stopped his determined puppy.

"John! Enough! I'm awake. Stop your infernal licking at once." Sherlock said, voice full of sleep as he sat up.

John didn't know what any of those words meant but his master was awake. He wagged his tail as he slid down to Sherlock's lap. He butted him with his head, giving a high whine as a greeting. Sherlock gave him an annoyed look as he placed a hand on John's head and messed with his ears. John leaned into the touch before moving away. He whined and looked towards the door of the bedroom before looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked at John a few times before realizing what he was asking. He yawned as he scooped John into his arms, legs sliding to the floor.

"You are not going to let me go back to sleep, are you?" John shook his head and rested it on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock wondered if it was too late to give John back. He held the pup as he made his way to the living room. Sherlock's plan was to feed John and then he would go back to the room and sleep. John couldn't get through a locked door after all. He placed John on the floor, going the usual routine of John's breakfast. John waited patiently at his bowls as they got filled with food and water.

He was aware of the big picture box getting turned on but he could care less. There was food in front of him!

"I'm going back to sleep, John. Don't wake me up unless a client comes. Bite Mycroft if he does come."

John lifted his head from his food before letting out a huff. That just wouldn't do. He wanted to go outside. He couldn't do anything as Sherlock-master went back to their sleeping place. Fine.

If Mycroft-friend did come (which he was hoping for), he was going to give him lots of attention. He finished his breakfast, found his favorite toy and hopped onto the plush armchair to watch tv.

The morning went and afternoon was just starting to roll around when the doorbell rang. John rolled onto his side at the sound, having been busy playing with thread on one of the pillows. He could hear Ms. Hudson get the door and start talking to someone. He decided to investigate and nosed the front door open to get to the staircase. His wishes came true as Mycroft-friend was starting to make his way up the stairs. John's ears perked up in delight and barked to announce his presence.

Mycroft noticed him and his lips twitched into a tiny smile. John barely waited for him to get his foot on the landing before running around him. Mycroft watched John with a fond look as he hooked his umbrella on his arm. He crouched down to John's level and waited for him to calm down. John finally calmed to a small bounce in his step as he stood in from of Mycroft. Gentle fingers smoothed down the fur on his head and gave him a good scratch on neck.

His tail rapped on the floor in delight from the petting. John leaned back to lick Mycroft on the hand before rushing back into the flat.

"I find it no surprise my brother has left you alone. He is still not used to the idea of being responsible for anything."he said, following John into the flat.

Sherlock did find a way to put John into his life and it was obvious by the state of the flat. It was still in the usual mess of disarray with touches Ms. Hudson attempting to clean some spots. John's toys were strewn about in one corner that hasn't been overrun over by newspapers. Mycroft could say that it was cleaner than usual. The desk wasn't a disaster waiting to happen.

Also, the floor was clear to walk and there was no need to move anything to sit. John could help Sherlock unlike any human could. Besides, Sherlock needed the unconditional love of a pet. Mycroft sat down on the armchair, propping his umbrella on the edge.

"Go fetch your master for me, John. I have some important business to speak with him."

John cocked his head to the side as Mycroft gave the command. He remembered Sherlock telling him to not to wake him if Mycroft-friend came to their home. But the obvious conclusion was that Mycroft-friend came as a client. He would be able to please both brothers. John nodded to himself at his clever thinking and went to get Sherlock.

He made his way to the bedroom door and pushed on it with his paw to open it. Surprisingly, it didn't budge. That wasn't right at all. Sherlock-master never locked the door. He huffed and pushed on the door again. John sniffed at the crack under the door and let out a growl.

How rude! He was locked out the room. He barked and scratched at the door, trying to get it open. No matter how loud he howled or scratched, the door wouldn't open.

John was upset. He didn't do anything wrong earlier and Sherlock-master had seemed to be in a good mood. Just about to give up, John let out a yip of surprise as his paws left the ground. Mycroft held him in one arm and stared at him with a curious look. He then tested the doorknob and realized what all the noise was about.

"Locked you out the room?" John whined and batted the door with a paw. "I see."

Mycroft didn't know what Sherlock had been thinking. He knew that the puppy didn't trust easy. He was going to regret doing such if John's drooping ears had anything to say about. It was high time to teach Sherlock a lesson.

"John, would you like to spend the afternoon in my company? I am sure that Sherlock wouldn't mind at all."

John looked up in surprise and buried his nose into Mycroft's collar. That would show his master who was wrong.

______________________________________________________________

  
"Sir, I believe your brother will not be too happy with his pet taken."

Somehow, Anthea ended up with John sitting next to her. He wasn't even phased leaving Baker Street. Looking up from her phone, John had his nose in the leather seat. Huffs of air left his nose as he sniffed the seat. Anthea wasn't an animal lover per say but she had to admit that dogs were fine with her. She could tolerate the more intelligent breeds like John.

No doubt dealing with Sherlock Holmes would make John smart indeed. The pup looked to be well behaved. Anthea figured that stemmed from his old training rather than Sherlock.

"Indeed. He locked John out his room. John consented on coming with me." Mycroft said, reaching out to pat John on the head.

John lifted his head and nudged Mycroft's hand with his nose. Mycroft gave him a pat again before turning over to the paperwork in his briefcase. Seeing a dismissal, John turned his attention to the window. He always enjoyed a car ride. It gave him an opportunity to catalog different scents. John crawled over Mycroft's lap and pulled himself onto his hind legs with the door handle.

He pressed his muzzle against the glass, watching the daily movements of everyday life. His tail wagged as careful fingers scratched his back. This was already much better than waiting for Sherlock to wake up.

  
Sherlock wasn't sure how the day could get worse. The uncalled wake up call by John had him wiping dog spit off his face. Then while going back to bed, he happened to trip over one of John's toys. His knee still twinged from the twisting motion that he had performed to stop himself from falling. But, it didn't stop there.

He managed to burn himself while making coffee and John was nowhere to be found. He was pretty sure he had done nothing to warrant such excessive hiding. Besides, John adored him. The puppy was even more well behaved if he devoted a spare moment for a belly rub. He checked under the sofa one more time to conclude that John was not in his flat.

Neither was he in the building. Sherlock sat in his armchair, trying to think of what could have happened. No, he was not worried. John couldn't have run away. It took him ten minutes to get down the stairs alone. Sherlock had done a series of tests on it as part of his physical therapy.

Ms. Hudson would have said earlier if she had John in her flat. As much as he hated to admit it, he had no idea where to look. As he debated on calling Lestrade for reluctant help, his mobile rang from his dressing gown pocket. Sherlock frowned as he saw the caller id. Mycroft. Of course.

He must have come into his flat and whisked John away. John most likely had gone willingly too, the traitor. John laid at Mycroft's feet every time his brother visited him.

"Give me back my dog, you thief." Sherlock snapped into his mobile as he answered the call.

He could hear the smugness dripping from Mycroft's voice. "Thief? I did no such thing. I asked John to fetch you but you were unavailable. He was so dejected that John agreed to come with me."

"So you dognapped John. He's mine and not yours. You have no right to take him out our flat."

"Dognapped? Really? John is fine with me, seeing as I had him before you in the first place. Right now he's enjoying a rest in my office."

"This is not over Mycroft. I am coming to collect John from your grubby clutches."

"See you soon, brother dear."

Sherlock nearly broke his phone shutting it off. He exchanged his dressing gown for his Belstaff, his mind focused on one thing. He was going to get his dog back.

  
Mycroft hung up the telephone with a smirk working its way onto his face. It was his own brother's fault. John had quite a lot of fun during his stay at his office. The pup was resting quite comfortably in a corner of his office at the moment. It had been pure luck that Murray sought him out after a session of dog training during the walk back to his office. John had spotted his former owner first, squirming from Anthea's grip.

He rubbed himself on Murray's ankles and lavished the solider's face with licks as he bent down. In all, John had not been with him the entire day. Murray had taken him for most of it.

Apparently, John had been tested on his training and a few hours of physical therapy. That included getting attention from his agents. Agents that would find themselves on Sherlock guard duty for the next few days. Even Anthea hadn't been immune to his charms. She even let him John sit in her lap and get his ears scratched. Sherlock didn't understand that John's breed alone made him quite a social dog.

Well, it wouldn't hurt if Sherlock learned a lesson or two. The smile that faintly appeared on Mycroft's face could be interpreted as villainous. He immersed himself with work in silence, broken every now and then by a heavy sigh from John in his sleep. It was almost like when he had been taking care of John except with a more injured and quite listless puppy. The silence lasted for a short while until broken by none other than Sherlock. His little brother slammed the door open, glaring at him like Mycroft was the one wrong.

The noise startled John out his sleep; the pup yawned and got to his feet. John shook himself a few times, making his fur even fluffier looking than normal. He wagged his tail at Mycroft, stretching forward before noticing Sherlock. The detective was making his way towards him. In a move that would have Mycroft laughing (if he ever laughed), John turned his nose up at his master and moved closer to Mycroft's desk. Sherlock stood dumbfounded at John's behavior and glared at Mycroft.

"What did you do?" Sherlock snapped, walking over and grabbing John off the floor.

"Me? I did nothing. I told you John decided to come with me after you hurt his feelings. " Mycroft said amused as John pushed at Sherlock's face with his paws, squishing the side of his face.

"Please. John woke me with spit even after I told him to stop. He would have been fine if someone hadn't come and stolen him. He was the one who urged me to sleep in the first place!"

Sherlock would never admit that he slept better with John in the bed. He had a feeling that John had figured it out. John continued to push at his face, squirming with all his might with no avail. When the pup realized he wasn't getting free, he reluctantly rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. It took that moment for the detective to finally get it. John always sniffed at his neck and snuggled into his embrace. Maybe he did hurt John's feelings after all.

What if it hadn't been Mycroft that had taken John? His pup was still handicapped and would been taken. A high pitched whine came from John as he broke out his musings. The weight of John disappeared from his arms, plucked away once again by Mycroft. Biting back a retort, he turned around to face him. It was a mockery of the same position he usually carried John. John kept making whines in his throat, snuffling at Mycroft's tie as he leaned on his chest.

"Give him back."

Mycroft pretended to ignore him, focused on inspecting John's left foreleg. "All you need to do is apologize to your pet, Sherlock."

Sherlock bit back an angry noise and looked at John. The pup was paying more attention to Mycroft. He was too busy trying to lick his brother's fingers. He could see that his injured leg was somewhat swollen from who knows what. What did he do with Mycroft that made him like that? Why in the hell was John so focused on Mycroft?

The answer smacked Sherlock on the back of the head again. Not only did he hurt John's feelings, he also wasn't giving him enough attention. He did have quite a lot to make up for.

"John." He waited until the pup turned his gaze to him. "I apologize for causing you such distress. I promise to pay attention to you more."

John stared at Sherlock for a few seconds before leaning forward towards him. Mycroft released his grip to transfer John to Sherlock's arms. John rested his paws on the detective's shoulders to stare before nudging his cheek. He nuzzled him softly as he rested his head on his shoulder, licking his ear. Sherlock looked down at John, oblivious to the tiny smile on his face. He tightened his grip on John as he made his way to the door.

He left without even a goodbye to his brother. Mycroft stayed standing as he watched Sherlock leaving with John. He figured that Sherlock would figure it out eventually. It might have taken him a little longer to get it but, his brother had never been bright when it came to feelings. Puppies needed attention and social interaction all the time. It was twice that for John with his breed and his previous training.

Still, it was obvious to him that John was changing Sherlock for the better. A smile even so faint on his brother's face was a rarity in itself. If he was in a better mood than usual after dealing with Sherlock, one might say he was looking forward to Sherlock's future.


	11. Missing John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's gone missing and Sherlock can't find him. It's driving everyone crazy.

"We looked for him four times, Sherlock. There's no trace of John anywhere. No one has seen him and no calls came. Maybe someone found him."

"Who wouldn't notice a damn dog as big as John with a collar running about?"

Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose as Sherlock flopped down on the couch. This was why people had their animals tagged. It was going on the second month that John had disappeared during a case. From what Sherlock told him, the two had split up looking for clues. The same damn clues they needed to put a serial killer in jail. Sherlock hadn't found what he was looking for and was sure that John had. They looked all night in the area but there was no sign of the pup. The few tracks they found were no lead as John must've stepped through a puddle, clearing what direction he went. Lestrade knew that the detective worried John was hurt or worse. Ms Hudson told him Sherlock left every night and didn't come back til morning, trying to find his pup. Even as he looked around the flat, Sherlock had an entire map of London in his wall with various streets crossed off from his search. For Sherlock's sake, he hoped John returned in one piece.

"You're the one who keeps saying people are idiots. And he's not that big for a runt; he just lost his milk teeth for crying out loud." Lestrade said, rolling his eyes at the glare thrown his way.

He wasn't the only one looking in their spare time, no matter how Sherlock badgered him to use police resources. Sherlock was more tolerable with John around. He didn't insult them as much and he didn't seem so manic. He really felt for him, knowing John was out there alone.

"Listen, I'll check with the missing animals department again and text you if anything comes up." Lestrade offered as he headed out the door.

He ducked to dodge the pillow that Sherlock threw and hurried down the stairs. He winced as he heard he detective let out a frustrated yell and the sounds of things falling to the floor. They needed to find John sooner than he thought.

_________________________________________________

 

"Is it nice not being me? I can hear the rusty cogs in your brains trying to move! It must be nice walking through a haze of stupidity for the rest of your lives." Sherlock snapped at he stood in front of the body.

Three months went by with no sign of John and life had to move on. Their serial killer unfortunately was still on the loose. In the span of a few weeks, Sherlock became damn near intolerable. His deductions cut right to the matter and every insult to an office had them trying to punch him. Lestrade knew Sherlock's frustration from the case, John still missing and likely his guilt made him lash out. When one of the techs had to hold Anderson back from punching Sherlock, he knew it was time to step in. He grabbed Sherlock by the arm and pulled him to the opening of the alleyway. Lestrade rolled his eyes at his pleased expression and gave him a look.

"Stop riling up my team, Sherlock. Just...I know your worried about John but if you keep this up, someone is going to file a complaint." Sherlock glared at Lestrade and scoffed, turning towards the street.

"I don't know how you got that idea in your head, Lestrade."

He flinched as Lestrade gave him a hard poke in the chest. "I know you've been out every night looking for your dog. You pick him up when you flounce around your flat as it is."he said.

Sherlock could pretend all he wanted but John had made a place in his heart. The pup mellowed the detective out and made him responsible. One would have to be blind not to notice how Sherlock gave John affection. He must have surprised Sherlock enough to see part of his mask fall. His shoulders slumped minutely and he gave Lestrade a look. Lestrade had a feeling that was his worried face.

"I am...worried for John, I'll admit. I should have been able to find him by now. Me! John's a dog, Lestrade. How could he cover his tracks this well?" Sherlock grabbed his curls with a growl.

Lestrade tried to think of something comforting to say when an officer let out a shout near the tape. He turned to see the officers trying to stop something from coming through the crime scene from a gap in a mesh fence in the mouth of the alley. Whatever it was must have gotten through since the officers scrambled after it. To his surprise, it was the last thing he expected to see. With his fur covered in soot and grime was John. The pup was nearly black from where he had been. The straps of a tote bag were around his neck; John carried the bag itself in his mouth. His collar was nowhere to be seen and he looked much thinner than from when he left.

Making a wide berth from the body, John came to a stop in front of Sherlock. He dropped the bag and wiggled the straps off. Sherlock looked too shocked to do anything but stand there. Lestrade bent down and grabbed the bag, taking a look inside. He had to smile because it was damn unbelievable. The evidence that they needed to put the serial killer behind bars was right here. John wagged his tail which seemed to knock Sherlock into action. He snatched the bag from Lestrade and saw John's collar at the bottom under the evidence. He pulled it out, seeing it had a splatter of blood against it. John went through mud and dirt from the state of his coat.

He kept his previously injured foreleg off the ground, the patch of fur from his healing wound crusted over in blood. That didn't stop his puppy from being pleased as punch. His tail wagged as he waited for praise. Sherlock shoved the bag back at Lestrade and bent down to one knee. John almost knocked him over as he ran into his arms. He let out a bark, licking Sherlock on the chin.

"I have to say I'm impressed, but you are quite filthy. What skip did you go through that you're sticky? Lestrade, I believe you have the information that you need now to close your case." Sherlock said, making a face as he picked John.

The detective endured being covered in god knows what and the many licks that John gave him. His shirt most likely would be going in the garbage from the grime. John settled down and batted Sherlock's face with a paw as he rested his head on his shoulder.

"Fine, get out of here and take care of John. I don't know how he did it but he's smart. Good job, John." Lestrade said as he reached over to scratch John on the head.

John let out a huff and leaned into the touch, licking the DI's gloved fingers as he stepped back. Sherlock tightened his grip on John and headed towards the street. He couldn't hear what he was saying but John buried his nose into Sherlock's scarf. As usual, a cab seemed to appear once he stuck his arm. Lestrade waited until he was gone in the cab before calling Mycroft. A fond smile stayed on his face, watching his team process the scene.

"John found us. He was scouting out evidence this whole time, can you believe it? We don't give Sherlock enough credit. They're good for each other."


	12. Broken Bones Are Boring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock breaks his leg during a case. He is not particularly happy about it. Luckily, he has a puppy who is more than happy to help him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been getting a lot of prompts and I have to look through them. I'll try to get them finished when college stops being a pain in the ass.

Sherlock wondered if he could sneak out the flat without anyone noticing. It was doubtful as the crutches would likely make noise and John would alert Ms. Hudson. He hated to be trapped in his home and not being able to go about as he pleased. It wasn't like he planned to break his leg in two places. He had estimated the fire escape could hold his weight. He had not figured that it would not hold him and the killer who tried to stab him.

The fire escape had given away from the building and threw them to the ground. Sherlock left with less injuries than he expected, but the criminal had a concussion and broken ribs to account for. Still, the broken leg was confining. Sherlock huffed from his supine position in the couch. He'd take broken ribs over a leg any day. He would be able to go where he wanted at least. A wet nose against his hand pulled him from his thoughts.

Right. John. The pup snuggled into his stomach and pawed at the detective's hand. A semblance of a smile worked its way onto his face as he scratched John's side. He made careful not to touch the bandage around his shoulder. It had only been two weeks since John's return. Sherlock would admit things were peaceful and if John was a tad more affectionate, why should he judge? John wriggled in his lap until he was on his back. The pup let out a wuff and swatted at Sherlock's dressing gown.

"Stop that, you're still recovering." Sherlock said, pushing John back onto his side.

John turned his head to look at Sherlock. He hopped off his lap and padded to the bedroom. The sound of John struggling and drawers being opened floated out the bedroom. What on earth was that pup up to? Sherlock made to get up, but stopped at the pain that shot through his leg. He glared at the cast as he massaged his hip. One of those painkillers would be fantastic right now. He would get up once his leg stopped feeling like it was on fire.

John came back just as Sherlock contemplated dragging himself to the bedroom to get his medication. He dragged one of Sherock's ratty t shirts in his mouth. The shirt was folded in half and bulged with something John must have wanted him to have. He hoped it wasn't another dead bird. At least not in one of his good shirts and he couldn't experiment on it.

With a few grunts and stopping to rest his foreleg, John made it to the sofa where Sherlock laid. He let go of the shirt and licked his muzzle. He pawed at the bundle and looked up at Sherlock. Getting the hint, Sherlock picked up the makeshift bag and unfolded his shirt. The laugh that came out of him was surprising and John started to wag his tail for it.

His puppy had managed to get his painkillers, mobile, and charger off the dresser for him. Sherlock looked down at John, his tail wagging so fast that he couldn't stay still. He leaned over to grab John who nestled comfortably in his grip. He made a face as John licked his nose, but allowed it.

"John, you are magnificent. We have to add this to your training. You learned useful resources while you were gone." Sherlock said.

John huffed and pressed his nose against Sherlock's. Sherlock reached up and pet John's back as he laid back down, bracing his leg. John yawed and laid out on Sherlock's chest, nosing his dressing gown before closing his eyes. Sherlock swallowed one of the pills and kept up his ministrations on John's back. It was rare he felt such a calm and having his puppy resting content against him. Maybe he could get used to having a lazy day (preferably without a broken leg).

"Now if you could learn to make tea, it would be a perfect use of our time."he said, ignoring the way John snorted at his words.


	13. Surprise After Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a drugs bust, Sherlock shows exactly what the Yard always feared. They always knew he'd knew snap. No one expected to be about his new pet though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a few months after Sherlock is out of his cast and has a splint on. He's still confined to the flat.
> 
> Also, fan works! On FF.Net, there's a cute story that was inspired by this series. It's called Dirty Paws by AwesomeOliver. Seriously, I love her take on puppy!john. Drop her a review and tell her I sent you on by!

**Prompt: Anderson regress John's injury somehow and Sherlock going off.** (Suggestion from [childatheart28](http://archiveofourown.org/users/childatheart28))

 

Sherlock wondered if his brain would fall out between his ears at how bored he was. Even if it did, he knew he'd still be smarter than the rest of the population. He couldn't help but glare at his leg. The cast was of, but he wore a splint to walk in. The crutches were twice as annoying as it made it impossible to sneak out the flat. He didn't have to use them to move around, but his walking was slowed without them. The few attempts to leave that been successful proved to be quick failures. He only got a couple blocks away before he was bodily dragged into the flat. Even John was against him! His own flatmate!   
  
John followed him closely and alerted Ms. Hudson with barks if he stepped close to the front door. The confinement was starting to drive him up the wall. John even hid his bow after the fourth day of playing his violin, making sounds that put humans on edge. It had to be ten times worse for the pup. Sherlock had an idea as to where it was. Unfortunately, he had no way of looking for it. John had used his inability to bend down against him. There was only one good thing with having the cast off.   
  
He could go back to doing experiments and standing (for short periods of time). At the moment, the detective leaned on the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. In one arm, he held John who was busy pressing his wet nose against his dressing gown covered shoulder. He did notice that today was not the pup's day. Sherlock figured out something was wrong when John woke up late.   
  
The pup was his personal alarm clock most days so it was surprising to wake without a doggy tongue on his face. After that, he observed John looked tired even after the extra sleep. Sherlock figured that John just had a nightmare again. It wasn't until he watched him lay on his belly to eat. He knew then it was his shoulder that hurt the pup. It was only a trivial matter to carry John whenever he needed. He didn't feel like seeing him struggle to walk around.  
  
It definitely wasn't like he cared or anything. Sherlock snapped out his musings as the kettle went off. He jostled John as he juggled getting his tea made, earning himself a huff from John. It took, in his opinion, much longer than he liked to get back to sofa. It was a miracle that he didn't drop John or his tea as he sat. He set the tea down on the coffee table, put John on his appointed pillow on the sofa, and propped his leg on coffee table.   
  
Sherlock could feel the throb in his bones and knew he had been standing too long.  He really couldn't wait for it to heal. John crawled into his lap, curling into a ball where his dressing gown pooled. He let out a whine as Sherlock pressed his fingers against his shoulder. Trying to squirm, he whined louder when Sherlock started doing a circular motion on the spot.   
  
"Hush, John. I know it hurts, but tensing your foreleg like this is not going to help matters." he said, careful not to press too hard as worked.   
  
John whined more until Sherlock worked out a hard knot of muscle near his shoulder. The pup let out a pleased huff and sprawled out near boneless from his master's touches. He pressed his nose to Sherlock's healing leg and gave it a few licks through the thin pajama bottoms. He looked at Sherlock for some kind of approval. A warm feeling moved through Sherlock's chest as he finished the massage, scratching John under the chin.   
  
He realized what John was doing; he was trying to get rid of the pain in his leg the only way he knew how. Drinking his tea, Sherlock carded his fingers through the ruff on John's neck. The silence in the flat was comfortable, his mind at ease for once.   
  
Unfortunately, it was not to last. John sat up in his lap and turned his head to the door. The pup jumped out his lap, wincing as he landed. He walked to the door and sniffed under it before wiggling it open with his body. He disappeared from Sherlock's view as the door opened downstairs and familiar voices floated upstairs. Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned his head on his back of the sofa. Why did Lestrade want to do a 'drugs bust' now?   
  
He ignored the footsteps coming up the flat and John's barking. Lestrade could have at least waited until coming for the sealed orange change purse he had under the papers on the desk. Maybe it was too much to ask for just a quiet day in his own flat. The door pushed open and a stream of officers walked in, quickly starting to go through his things. Idiots. Didn't they see him on the sofa?   
  
"Put Billy down before you pass your intelligence to him, Anderson. "Sherlock snapped, the officers collectively startling at the sound of his voice.  
  
Anderson made a face and checked the hollow of the skull before putting it down. "You named the skull, you pyscho? Didn't people tell you not to sneak up on them?"he said.  
  
"I've been sitting here the whole time." Sherlock rolled his eyes and motioned to his leg. "It's not my fault you sorry fools didn't notice me in my own home."  
  
Anderson started to say something else but was caught off by Lestrade telling him to back off. The DI held John in his arms, the pup nosing his tie. Lestrade walked to Sherlock's spot on the sofa and fixed him with a firm glare.   
  
"Where is it? I tell you all the time to stop taking evidence, and you never listen." Lestrade said.   
  
Sherlock returned the glare. John always turned traitor when Lestrade was around. Lestrade was the only one who John let hold him like a baby. Not even Sherlock could hold John like that unless he wanted a nip to his fingers.   
  
"I'm not in the mood. How could I have evidence if I'm handicapped?" he said as he motioned to his leg.   
  
"Neither am I and I know you'd find a way to get it. Right John?" Lestrade rubbed John on the belly. "He never listens to anyone and steals my evidence."  
  
John gave Lestrade a look that conveyed 'don't talk like that. You're lucky I like you.' He let the DI pet him until he squirmed to be put down.  
  
Lestrade knelt and let John go, the pup heading straight for an officer digging through the bookcase. Sherlock watched John  before turning his attention back to Lestrade. The DI had a fond look on his face that made Sherlock's lip curl up in a slight sneer.   
  
"What?"  
  
"He's been good for you, Sherlock."   
  
"Please, he's just a dog that I'm training for cases."  
  
Lestrade held back a laugh at Sherlock's attempt to save face. He could see the faint blush that crossed Sherlock's face. He followed the detective as he stood, making his way to the fireplace. He snapped at one of the officers digging through his mail.  
  
"You ignored a crime scene and took him straight to the vet when he came back. It's obvious you care for John."  
  
Sherlock turned to glare at Lestrade, but it was clear he was embarrassed. "Tell Mycroft to stop spying."  
  
Lestrade was prepared to tease Sherlock some more. When did he ever get to hold something over him? He was cut off when a pained yelp went through the air. Later when he told the story to Mycroft, he wouldn't believe it himself how quick Sherlock was. The man still had a splint on his leg.   
  
Sherlock moved from the hearth to the kitchen entryway in seconds. He slammed Anderson to the wall and near lifted the man off his feet. Anderson looked petrified by the livid look on Sherlock's face.  
  
"Did you think it was a good idea to kick John? I knew you were a petty idiot, but I should break you in half for this." he snarled.  
  
The room was silent except for John's quieting whimpers. Sherlock glanced down at John and fought against choking Anderson. The bandage around John's shoulder was stained red with blood, the pup curled in on himself. He growled at Anderson and tried to take a step forward, but stopped with a whine at the pain.  
  
"You've regressed him back months of therapy. Was this petty revenge for him pissing on you?" Sherlock sneered as Anderson opened his mouth yet no words came out. "Answer me!"  
  
Everyone flinched at Sherlock's shout. They were used to him shouting they were idiots and other various insults he could come up with. Not once did he shout with such venom and disgust. Anderson paled and found that Sherlock would not budge when he tried to squirm away.   
  
"It's j-just a stupid puppy."  he managed to get out, afraid of what Sherlock would do.   
  
Sherlock snarled and prepared to slam Anderson against the wall again if it wasn't for Lestrade. The DI tugged on arm for him to let go. He was all in the right to give Anderson a good thrashing except he couldn't let him assault a police officer. Not that he wouldn't be giving Anderson a good dressing down when they left.   
  
"Let him go, Sherlock. John needs you more right now. I think you need to take him to go get checked out." he said in the softest tone he could muster.  
  
That got Sherlock to turn his head and realize that Lestrade held John in his arms. John licked his paw which started to turn a dirty brown from the blood seeping through the bandage. He turned to mutter something to Anderson that had the man turning white as a sheet. He let Anderson go, ignoring how the man crumpled to the floor.  
  
"The evidence you were pestering me for is on my desk. All of you better be gone before I return." Sherlock sneered as he cradled John to his chest.  
  
He stalked out the flat with a sense of cold fury around him.  Lestrade hoped that no one else pissed him off on the way to the vet. In all the years that he knew Sherlock, he never saw him get that level of angry. He had snits and tantrums, but that kind of fury was scary. As he told everyone to leave and grabbed the evidence bag off the desk, Lestrade hoped that John would be alright. He would have to call Sherlock later to check up on both of them. Right now, he needed to have words with Anderson. 


	14. A Trip To The Vet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock should have known something was wrong when John stopped having much of an appetite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're jumping around the timeline a bit, this is around a week or so after Issues of Work. All of the stories follow each other except for this little time jump. If you want to leave a prompt, just drop by my Tumblr (noxtorious.tumblr.com) since I do read the comments, but usually forget to reply to them. You'll get a faster reply there.

Prompt:  **John gets sick (crime scene, Sherlock experiment, given something)**  (Suggestions from Realistic_Dreamer)

 

Sherlock Holmes never panicked. He was above the baser instincts that other idiots were reduced to when things went out of hand. He sat in the vet's office with John in his lap, the pup panting from a fever. He told himself his hands were not shaking as he ran his fingers through John's fur. The pup whined and turned glassy eyes to Sherlock before weakly pushing his hand away with his head. John licked his muzzle and shifted onto his side as he closed his eyes. Sherlock looked down at John and hoped that he forgave him. Though all the panic was the guilt of John being sick was all his fault.

\----------

 

"Excellent, John! Bring it here." A dirty rag was placed in Sherlock's outstretched hand. He held the rag in the light and saw dried blood on it. John butted Sherlock's leg with a yip, letting the detective scratch his ears.

"Let's go to the Yard and prove that the husband did it."

John yipped again and allowed Sherlock to clip the leash to his harness, their dumpster dive finished.

 

______

 

Sherlock knew that was where the problem most likely stemmed from. He waited for his name to be called and frowned. He rubbed John's ears; he was too hot for his liking. He should have paid attention.

 

______

 

He slid further into the tub, closing his eyes at the heat soaking through his bones. The second bath drawn after their dumpster dive was better. He even opted to put bubbles in, an indulgence he partook in when he had the time. John growled playfully from the other end of the tub. He nipped and splashed the bubbles, making a mess on his side.

"John, come here and stop making a mess."

John's ears swiveled towards Sherlock and he slowly paddled over to him. His tail was almost like a little propeller with the way he moved. Once close enough, Sherlock scooped him to his chest and endured licks to his face. John was warm, but there was steam clouding the air. He was warm himself. He ignored the thought and tried to teach John how to swim properly.

 

______

 

Another sign that he missed. He mentally berated himself. John panted in his lap and pressed his nose into Sherlock's leg. His fur was slicked with his sweat as Sherlock rubbed his stomach.

"Mr. Holmes and John? We're ready for you."

Sherlock gathered John in his arms and followed his nurse to the doctor's office. He usually wasn't one to hope, but he wanted the vet to tell him that had a mild sickness. His grip tightened on John, ignoring the feeble squirming he did. After all, John survived a bullet to the shoulder. Whatever John had would not put him down.

 

______

 

Sherlock walked up to his flat with groceries in his hand. He hated shopping in all sense of the word. Still, he had to go get more food and raw hides for John. He couldn't find the lye that he needed which was annoying and meant that he would have to go back out.

"John? Don't tell me that you're sleeping now. We've talked about this." he said as he went to the kitchen.

Sherlock placed the bags by the fridge and didn't hear John come to him. His shoulder must have been hurting him again. He checked his food bowl to see if the pup ate. A frown made its way on his face as he realized it hadn't been touched. Something was very wrong.

"John?"

Sherlock walked to his bedroom and called out for John again. A loud whine had him rushing into the room. John was curled up in his pillow. His breathing was short and his fur looked limp.Sherlock rushed to the bed, worried as John whined at his touch. The pup was abnormally hot and seemed to struggle with every breath.

He gathered John in one arm and his mobile in the other. John was sick and he needed to be treated immediately.

"I have an emergency. My puppy has a high fever and is breathless..."

 

______

 

"Oh poor thing. Looks like you caught a nasty virus huh?"

John nosed the exam table and rested on it. The vet tried to get him to stand, but John seemed to not have the strength. She let him lay out on the table instead.

"A virus? Will he recover?" Sherlock found himself rubbing John behind the ears.

"Oh yes. Most dogs get it by ingesting some bacteria usually around garbage or by other dogs. He'll be listless and won't eat a lot, but that's the recovery. His fever will spike the next few days so make sure to give him cold baths to prevent John from licking himself."

"Also, he'll need lots of water. I'll give you the prescription. It's a pill and he needs to eat it. Just mix it up in his food or make a fruit bowl to mask the scent and he should be fine in two weeks. Any new developments occur, just email me."

Sherlock listened to what the vet said and nodded at the right times. John had no contact with other dogs; the reason for the virus was the dumpster dive earlier in the week. He worked out what he had to buy and a schedule that would work in his favor.

John already looked healthier after the injection the vet gave. She swaddled John in a blanket with a cold compress, handing him over to Sherlock. Sherlock figured that it would last the cabbie ride back to Baker Street.

"Thank you, doctor."

He allowed John to snuggle in the crook of him arm, the pup on his way to sleep. As he strode out the vet's office, he made a promise to himself that he would make sure John stayed healthy.

 

* * *

 

**Oh, and here's a picture of what John looks likes. He's a Chow Chow/Golden Retriever mix:**


	15. Trespassing on Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody messes with John's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try getting back into a actual time to posting these with school finally finished. But hey, finished prompts all around! If you want to leave me a prompt, just drop by my Tumblr and leave it as an ask. They're easier to collect there. Also, fan art. If anyone could make some puppy! John and Sherlock fan art, I'd love it.
> 
> I'm actually working on this and dabbling into Avengers fanfiction with a new story with Steve being a daddy and space stuff. I won't spoil it, but if you're interested, I'd love to get some feedback on it.

**Prompt: An intruder comes and John goes to protect Ms.Hudson/Sherlock**   **(Suggestion from Realistic_Dreamer)**

* * *

 

"John, I'm going to 's to get some new kidneys. I'll most likely be out for the rest of the night."

A whine followed by a bark was his answer.

"Don't whine, it's unbecoming. You know you can't come."

Sherlock didn't much see the point of John not being allowed to come. It wasn't like he would take a bite out of a corpse. Everyone complained about contamination and 'destruction of evidence'. As he put his coat on, John did that disturbing thing with his eyes again from his armchair. He made a mental note to experiment on why John did that.

"No, John. You're staying here and that's final. You can keep our landlady company and practice on the stairs while you're at it getting to her flat."

Seeing that Sherlock was still leaving, John huffed and rolled onto his side. Familiar fingers stroked his back before disappearing as Sherlock left the flat. John let out a puff of air through his nose, Sherlock-master's scent leaving the flat. He was being completely unreasonable. John climbed off the armchair and headed for the window. He hopped on the chair to the desk to watch Sherlock trying to catch a cab.

He nosed the curtains out the way and caught Sherlock's gaze as he looked up at the window. He huffed and couldn't help wagging his tail. It was hard to stay mad at Sherlock-master. Even with the front he put up to other humans, John knew he was trying his best. John looked away as he made his way back to the floor. For now, he would rest before going to check on Ms. Hudson.

_____

 

John made sure to eat and drink enough to prepare going to Ms. Hudson's flat. He knew getting down the stairs would be a challenge. He could tell his shoulder was almost healed, yet he couldn't move it like he did before. At least John had reassurance that Ms. Hudson could help him back. She didn't smell of faint pain and plants today. Making his way out the flat, John looked at the number of stairs he had to go down.

The easiest way for him to go down was backwards. He could control himself better and there was less pressure on his shoulder. John turned and went backwards down the steps, taking a break in the middle. His shoulder started to throb, but otherwise he was fine. It took a few more minutes for him to get all the way down He licked at his bandage a few times to try soothing the pain away. It didn't work like he expected it to.

Ignoring the pain, John padded to Ms. Hudson's door and tapped on it with his good paw. He added a few barks to make sure that she heard him. He noticed older humans like did not hear very well. John was about to bark again when he heard his favorite landlady coming to the door. Sitting on his haunches, John looked up when Ms. Hudson open the door for him.

"Oh hello dear, come on in. Did Sherlock leave you again? Are you checking on me?"she asked.

John walked in, briefly leaning on her leg. He let out a short ruff at the questions as he sniffed at the floor. He was aware of Ms. Hudson sitting down on her sofa as he explored the flat. He rubbed against the furniture to mark his scent before hopping up to sit next to her. He leaned into her touch as she pet his ears, curling against her hip.

"You two worry too much about me. I do enjoy your visits though, John. Sherlock can be a little boring sometimes for you, I think." she said.

John snorted in response, licking at her fingers. That was an understatement. Sherlock-master was the strangest and smartest human that he ever met, next to Mycroft-friend. He did strange experyments in their home and seemed to know what he needed before he did. On the other hand, he could be the most invasive, stressing and lazy human ever. Some days he had to pester him to play and push him towards the door for a walk. He would then complain about how they couldn't leave because of some silly reason. It wasn't like he could walk himself. Those days, Ms. Hudson-friend would take him for a walk instead as Sherlock would be 'distracted'.

Ms. Hudson chuckled at John's response and scratched at his belly. Sherlock definitely wasn't the easiest person to live with. Still, John was very good for the detective. To her surprise, Sherlock was flourishing under having a pet to take care. John made him better and showed people that he did have a heart. The pup put up with a lot from his owner and still, it was easy to see John was in love with Sherlock.

He tried to deny it all the time, but Sherlock loved John as well. She chuckled to herself, making John give her a curious look. He rested his head on her thigh and paid attention to the tv.

"You're an adorable little pup, John. We can watch some telly together before I help you upstairs for the night. How does that sound?"

John wagged his tail and sat up, crawling into Ms. Hudson's lap. He wiggled onto his back and nosed her skirts, wanting a belly rub. She laughed and scratched at his soft belly. Really, she could see how John easily had Sherlock his thumb...er, paw.

_____

 

"Good night, deary. I'll keep the door open so you come down during the night, okay?"

John licked Ms. Hudson's cheek before she put him down on the couch. He let out a yawn as she patted his head, leaving the door open as she left. He was grateful since the last thing he wanted to be was trapped in the flat. Tugging the afghan off the back of the couch, John draped it over himself. It smelled strongly of Sherlock and it made him content He snuggled under it to get a good night sleep.

He wasn't too sure how long it had been, but a noise woke him out his sleep. At first, he thought it was Sherlock-master except the scent was all wrong. John growled low in his throat, the fur bristling down his spine. An intruder was his home! His shoulder throbbed in response and he could remember the last time he dealt with an intruder. John sniffed the air and was partially relieved he didn't smell the shooty stick. He poked his head out silently as he watched the trespasser sneak into the flat and head to the kitchen. The figure stopped at the table and looked over the chemistry set.

John hopped the sofa and padded silently behind the intruder. As he got close, he could smell that he was male and nervous. It reminded him of when he chased down criminals with Sherlock-master. Nervous humans were scared to get caught. When the man picked up the microscope, John attacked. The man let out a shout of pain as John bit his thigh, going down to the floor. Glass rained down on them as beakers fell from the shift of the table. John backed off as the man tried to hit him with a half shattered beaker. He snarled and clamp his jaws down on his hand until he could taste blood.

"You crazy mutt! Get off of me!"

John yelped as the man landed a hit on his nose. He scrambled back to snort which allowed the man to make a run for the door. He didn't make it that far as John managed to bite his ankle and shake his head. The commotion woke Ms. Hudson, the landlady letting a shout of fright at the bleeding robber fighting with the pup. She rushed back downstairs to call the police.

_____

 

Sherlock could count on one hand how many times he had been awed by someone. The botched robbery of 221B happened when he was out could be listed up there. He sat next to his landlady in the ambulance, watching her get treated by the paramedics for shock. John wouldn't leave her side, no matter what they did. His muzzle was still a bit bloodied, even with the scrub he allowed Sherlock to do. He observed that John knew that the danger had passed, yet it had not stopped him from being careful.

His ears were slightly folded back, listening to whatever sounds he could pick up. Those dark blue eyes made a note of everyone who passed. His tail was the main indicator that his pup was not as calm as he seemed. It was laid straight, the fur was still spiky and dark. The only people he let touch him was Ms. Hudson and Sherlock. Even now, John allowed Ms. Hudson to scratch him in the ruff around his neck.

"John, you are truly a marvel. You protected Ms. Hudson and our things."Sherlock said, letting his fingers pet John's chin.

They watched as the robber was loaded up into the other ambulance with a police escort. John gave Sherlock a brief stare and dipped his head down as if he was embarrassed. No one tried to steal and hurt his family.


	16. The Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John hated when Sherlock made his violin make horrid sounds. He wasn't going to let the detective get away with it any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been forever. Between being having no ideas, then being backed up on prompts and college coming all at once, I had to get my priorities in check. 
> 
> Anyways, here's an update that is long overdue.

John was sure his human was doing this on purpose. There was no way such noise could go on for so long. The so called music Sherlock coaxed out of the violin was horrid. This was going on hour four of such noises going on. Earlier, John woke up to the smell of frustration on his human. Sherlock had been pacing in the living room when came out the bedroom.

 

He, being the good pup he was, went to get his leash.  A walk always helped when Sherlock got like that. It turned out that John was wrong by the way Sherlock threw the leash somewhere behind the sofa. Fine, he wouldn't be subjected to such rudeness. John had holed himself up under his plushy armchair and covered his ears with his paws. When Sherlock picked up the violin at first, he perked up in excitement. The music was fast and nice to listen to until he started making said cacophony of noises.

 

He watched Sherlock stop and John carefully uncovered his ears. The noise was gone and Sherlock muttered something to himself before leaving the room. John didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care as long as it was quiet. One thing John was going to make sure of was that his human could not make anymore noises like that for the time being. Crawling out from under the chair, he looked for the instrument. He walked to Sherlock's armchair and spotted the violin.

 

John knew that made the noise, but he swore Sherlock was running a funny looking stick on it. He sniffed along the edge of the chair before he found his prize. John wagged his tail, pleased with himself and his find. He half crawled under the chair and carefully grabbed the bow with his teeth. John couldn't help but make a face as whatever was on it made it taste horrible. Now, where to hide it was the question. 

 

John knew he couldn't hide it in their territory. Sherlock-master would find it right away. Also, if he hid it in Ms. Hudson-friend's territory, he would find it for sure. John listened for Sherlock's movements as he tried to think of a good hiding place. Oh! He knew exactly where to put it. John's ears perked up as he rushed out the flat. He took careful steps on the staircase, making sure the bow didn't hit anything. Even if he wanted the noise to stop, he would never destroy any of his human's possessions. 

 

Getting to the bottom was more of a challenge than usual with something in his mouth. Taking a rest to soothe his throbbing leg, John made sure to remember that. He couldn't wait until he got big and could traverse the stairs easier. Still, he had a job to do. He walked behind the staircase where he previously found a space between the floor and the steps. It was a long shallow hole that would hide the bow and was big enough that it was easy to retrieve with his mouth. So, he was sure that human fingers could get it. 

 

He placed the bow inside and took a step back, nodding to himself. Sherlock-master would call him a genius if he was in a better mood. As John made his way back up the stairs, he could hear Sherlock moving around in the living room again. He was no doubt either looking for his bow or pacing again. He wouldn't be able to find it, of course. When his human got into a better mood, John would think about showing him where he put his bow.


	17. A Date in the Morgue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sneaks John into the morgue and meets Molly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates only a day apart? I know, I'm surprised too. I think this chapter is way overdue.

"John, stop squirming. We are not at the lab yet."

  
Sherlock rarely had bad ideas. Sure, he could admit that certain decisions ended up being wrong once events followed through on them. He was starting to regret sneaking John into St. Barts. The pup kept trying to poke his head out the cardboard box he was in. As if on cue, John pushed up against the closed lid and whined.

 

"Be quiet. You wanted to come along and I need you to tell me if the victim had orange juice on their hands."

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the whine John let out as he pushed up on the flaps again. Really, did he want them to get caught? He held back a sigh as the morgue doors came into view. He shifted the box to free one of his arms, glad that John kept silent. Shouldering the door open, he slipped inside with John in tow. He didn't see Molly anywhere in sight and wondered if things were going to go his way today. The body that he still needed was out as well.

  
Sherlock let himself into the lab, set the box near his usual seat, and opened the flaps. John practically jumped out, letting half his body rest on the flaps. He gave Sherlock a quick glare before becoming distracted by the new place they were in. He didn't get a chance to investigate as Sherlock pulled him out the box.

  
"John, I need you to focus. You are important to cracking a case. Do you understand?" Sherlock said seriously, holding John up to his face.

  
John looked around the lab as he listened to Sherlock talk. He liked to help with cases. If he did good, John knew Sherlock would treat him with food. In response to the question, he leaned forward and licked his face. Sherlock gave him a look and set him down on a stool, wiping his cheek. He had some choice words about John's spit. Did he have to go over the rules again?

  
"Stay. I'll go fetch the evidence. There's nothing to eat on the table so do not attempt to."

  
John let out a snort at Sherlock's words and rested his head on the table. He gave the microscope a curious sniff before shifting his gaze to Sherlock. The detective could practically see the smug look on his pup's face as if that proved him wrong. He shook his head and headed to the evidence room.

 

__________________________________

 

John watched Sherlock-master disappear through the door and sighed. He didn't know why he thought he would eat any of these harsh smelling objects on the table. One time he eats a piece of human flesh off the floor by accident and it never goes away. He thought that going outside would be fun. Before, he never got to go. When Sherlock-master said he could come, it was exciting. Being put in a flimsy box and carried there was not his idea of fun.

  
This was boring! There was nothing good to scent! Everything smelled of harsh chemicals and dead things. It didn't help his nose. John sneezed and rubbed his nose with his paw. Sherlock-master better get back soon so he could help with the case. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, trying to figure out all the scents when the door pushed open. His ears perked up and his tail started to wag before he realized it wasn't Sherlock-master. The new person smelled female. John's ears went back down and he lifted his head to sniff the air. The female smelled like the dead things, chemicals, flowers and cats.

  
Now that he thought about, the same scent was around the new place he was in. He was in her territory! Oh, he hoped that the new female didn't throw him out. Though, John noticed that humans were strange when it came to that. They could share large territories without fighting. He watched the female walk in and continue to talk to herself. His presence must have surprised her because she let out a shout and dropped the papers she had in her hands.  John wagged his tail to show that he was friendly.

  
"Oh h-hello little doggy. What are you doing here?"

 

He was waiting for Sherlock-master, of course. She walked over to him with her hand extended and he gave it a curious sniff. She smelled nice and she didn't throw him out her territory which meant he was welcome.  He let her reach down to check his collar and harness. John liked his collar the best. He still has the modified dog tags his previous master gave him and Sherlock-master added a magnifier glass to it. When she finished, he licked her hand.

 

"You are absolutely adorable. Your name is John Watson, huh? My name is Molly. Now who do you belong to?"she asked, picking him up.

  
  
Molly-new friend had a sweet scent that he particularly liked. John sniffed at her clothes and neck, letting out a bark. Maybe she didn't know Sherlock-master? Molly started to pet his back which felt really good. He pressed his nose against her ear, wagging his tail. She giggled and cooed at John, cuddling him close to his chest. 

  
  
"Too cute! I really do wonder why you are in here though. This isn't the place for a sweetie like you." Molly said as she looked at John's collar again.

  
________________________

  
  
Sherlock bet it was Anderson who checked the evidence this time. Really, it shouldn't have taken him so long to find a bagged handkerchief in an evidence locker. Checking the body once over confirmed his other theory. It was smart to bring John along so he didn't have to hear people complain he stole again. He paused in opening the doors to the lab when he realized he could hear Molly's voice. He had been trying to avoid her since he knew her excessive love for animals would stop him from getting work done. Worse, she would distract John from being productive.

  
He opened the door and walked in, Molly letting out a squeak of surprise. She whirled around and held John close. The pup seem to not be bothered, wagging his tail to see he returned.

  
"S-Sherlock! I hope you know to stop taking evidence. By the way, do you know whose dog this is? I don't how he could have gotten into the building himself." she said, placing John on the floor.

  
John pressed against Molly's leg before walking to Sherlock. He ran around Sherlock once before sitting at his feet. The detective rolled his eyes and placed the evidence bag on the table. 

  
"He's mine. I snuck him in the building and he was waiting for my return."

  
"Sherlock! You can't do that! There are reasons animals are not allowed in the building, let alone the morgue laboratory."

"I need John to confirm a deduction. It is not my fault security didn't stop me. Also, I do not 'steal' evidence. I return it once I have no use for it any longer."

  
Sherlock ignored Molly's disapproving look as he fished an orange out his coat pocket. He commanded John to stay and placed it on the floor. He then put on latex gloves and opened the evidence bag, taking out the handkerchief. He leaned down so John could sniff the cloth and place the scent. Molly watched the two and found herself asking questions. It was strange seeing Sherlock with an animal. The man always by himself and lonely at the same time.

  
"Did you get him from a shelter? I...uh...noticed his little injury there." Molly asked as she watched John sniff the cloth.

  
Sherlock smirked as John gravitated to the orange and sat by it. John realized that he did a good job and promptly attacked the orange. It rolled away from him and past Molly's feet. John bent forward with a growl, his butt wiggling in the air before he ran after it.

  
"What? No. He was shot during a robbery and couldn't finish bomb detection training. His former owner couldn't keep him and he was given to me." Sherlock sent off a few texts from his mobile. "John! You are contaminating the floor! Get over here with that orange!"

  
What could she say to that? It was sad, but she could see how much Sherlock cared for John. Something hit her foot and she looked down to see the orange and John. He nosed the orange against her shoe and looked up at her with such pretty blue eyes. Her cats did the same exact thing when they wanted her to feed them. She cooed at him, scratching John behind the ears and making him close his eyes.

   
"Oh you just want to play a little bit, right John? You're not contaminating my morgue. Sherlock is just being a big ol' grump, isn't he? Whose a cute fluffy puppy? You are! Yes you are!" Molly gushed, petting John until the pup rolled onto his back so she could rub his tummy.

  
Sherlock wasn't sure what he was witnessing, but he was tired of seeing it. Everywhere he went, this scene in various ways occurred. On various walks, he would be stopped by women or even worse, women with children with John in tow. They would stop him in the street and John would let them do anything. Though, he admitted that his puppy wasn't stupid. He didn't expose his belly to strangers. He glared at the two, not sure what he was feeling. His mobile went off, signaling that Lestrade got his message. He had to go down to the station and give his statement. Great, he would have to take John there as well. He walked past and retrieved his box from off the floor.

  
"Stop playing with Molly, John. We have to go to the Yard. Also," He couldn't contain the eye roll. "Lestrade has asked for you."

  
John looked at Sherlock upside down and  let out a yip. He rolled back onto his feet and jumped up to lick Molly's face. He rolled the orange to Sherlock, cooperating as he was put in the box. The detective was nice enough to peel the orange for him and put it inside.

  
"I'll be back tomorrow for the head, Molly. Say good bye, John." John barked and laid down as Sherlock closed the flaps over him.

  
Molly barely managed to get a reply out as Sherlock swept out the lab. She waited until she was sure the detective was truly gone before letting out a series of giggles. She never thought that Sherlock was ever something as kind as to peel an orange for anyone. Plus, she saw how jealous he was when John came to her. She picked up her paperwork she dropped, smiling. Whoever gave John to Sherlock did a good service. She wouldn't mind having such a cute puppy visit her during work again.


	18. Mud Wrestling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were many games that Sherlock liked to play. Clue was one of his favorites. The game that John wanted to play was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School must good for something because I'm able to write these up without too much trouble.

 

This was bloody ridiculous. He thought that John was over this. He stared out into the backyard of his parent's home, covered in bits of mud and grass. For once, he opted out of wearing his suit from the summer heat. John had also ruined his trousers with his muddy body.  Jeans and an old uni shirt was all he decided to wear for going out into yard and the woods bordering it. How he hated the summer months. He didn't even want to be here! 

 

 

Mycroft played a dirty trick and told Mummy and Father about John. They were ecstatic to know that he finally opted on getting a pet again after Redbeard. John would never replace the hole that was left, but rather he filled up something in him that he didn't know he was missing. Still, after they arrived, John practically fell in love with the area. Unlike the flat, there was space for him to run and jump to his heart's content. Not to mention, he could explore without waiting for Sherlock to put on a leash. This train of thought brought him back to his original problem.

 

 

John was covered in mud and various things that laid in the woods. It was time to give him a bath so he could go back into the house. At first, John had been delighted until he saw the wooden tub filled with soapy water Father set up. Obviously, this was different than their own setup at the flat. His pup must have not liked it. He turned tail and ran away as fast as he could. Sherlock didn't give chase until John decided to run back and put muddy paw prints on his trousers.

 

 

That had given away to wrestling John to get him into the water. Mud caked his entire suit which required him to wear the clothes he had on now. His puppy seemed to think that wrestling was a fun game, but Sherlock did not want to play. 

 

"John! Come!"

 

A chorus of barking was the only answer he got in return. John bounced from side to side on the other side of the yard. Sherlock would not give chase again. This was the only pair of clothes he had left after all. John must have not cared because he ran at Sherlock and before the detective could brace himself, took a leap at him. A few months ago, the leap would have meant nothing. In the past few weeks though, John started to pick up weight to the point he was becoming a burden to carry his arms.

 

 

Sherlock hit the grass hard and let out a faint groan of pain. John stood on his chest and stopped, his being in pain an indicator that the game was paused. Wet mud and flecks of dirt dropped onto his shirt as John shifted forward. The pup licked his face and sniffed along his neck before giving a low whine. Of course, now he was worried that he could possibly hurt him with his tackle. Before John could think of running away again, Sherlock wrapped his arms around him. 

 

 

"I'm fine, but you should know better than to let down your guard so easily." Sherlock said, struggling as John squirmed to free himself. 

 

 

The mud made the task harder than it needed to be. The ground was wet and slick to get true purchase. He had to wrestled the pup into submission, shouting for John not to bite when it looked like it was going to get rough. As he finally managed to get to his feet and walk to the basin, Sherlock made a mental note to keep John's collar on in situations like this. It was too much work and John was no help in the matter. He dropped John into the lukewarm water and ignored his yelp of surprise. He was just as muddy and would have to find some clothes to wear. 

 

 

As he put shampoo into John's fur, he vowed to never take John to the park back home. It wouldn't be worth it. 


	19. Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has gotten hurt (again) and finds himself laid up in the hospital this time. Someone has to take care of John and the only available person is Lestrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I haven't given Lestrade enough love and he's one of my favorite characters. I figure Lestrade would be different in his pet care than Sherlock.
> 
> Also, as I no doubt you've all noticed, I deleted the Persona chapter from this series. Thanks for the all the comments that were completely honest. I knew it just didn't fit with the rest of the previous chapters. I didn't delete it for good, but I've put it up as a separate thing for a new Sherlock/SMT/Persona fusion-type series.

 

It truly was a miracle that Sherlock was not dead at this point. If he wrote down how many times Sherlock was seriously injured chasing a lead, he could write volumes. At least, this time he wasn't alone. Lestrade tucked the stuffed bear under his arm as he headed for the room. Sherlock would hate him for getting it, but he couldn't resist. From what Mycroft told him, Sherlock was in stable condition. He was damn lucky that the knife didn't hit anything important.

 

 

Really, the detective was a magnet of trouble. John did keep him out of doing anything too dangerous. Sherlock avoided anything that looked John could be grievously injuries. Usually. This week happened to be the exception. As he got closer to the room, he could hear shouting. That caused him to speed up, just in case the detective was causing trouble for the nurses. It wouldn't be the first time. He pushed the door opened and repressed a sigh to see Sherlock was shouting at the tv.

 

 

"Of course he's the father! Just look at the nose!" he said, waving his one free arm in the air.

 

 

Well, he must have been doing a little better if he could be surly so early in the afternoon. He knocked on the door and let himself in.

 

 

"Hey, how are feeling?" Lestrade asked, walking over and placing the stuffed bear next to Sherlock's bed as he sat down.

 

Sherlock turned his head to glare at the DI. He felt like crap. What kind of stupid question was that? He was bandaged like a mummy all over his torso and he had to stay in the hospital because the wound got infected. He prepared to tell Lestrade exactly how he felt when he felt a familiar lump stir at his side. First, John's nose peeked out from the covers before he completely wiggled himself out.

 

 

The pup hadn't come out the case unscathed either. Half his head was bandaged, covering his right ear and tight wrapping around his two front paws. His old shoulder injury looked like it got a quick look at how the fur was shaved there. Lestrade couldn't help but let out a noise as John made the most adorable noise as he yawned. John spotted him and dipped his head, stepping on Sherlock's lap. Lestrade lifted him up with a careful grip and chuckled as John licked his nose. He really was a cute thing.

 

 

Lestrade had to wonder how Sherlock snuck him in. Animals were usually not allowed in a patient's room. He was sure the nurses would never allow it if they knew the pup was here. Then again, John could turn on the charm just like Sherlock could. He could look like the most adorable thing that walked the earth. On the flip side, he could be a vicious guard dog.

 

 

"Hello to you too, John. Got a little banged up messing with Sherlock?" Lestrade grabbed one of John's paws and waved it at Sherlock. "How did you get John in here?"

 

 

"Ms. Hudson picked John up from the vet and brought him here. John wouldn't leave and the nurses thought he was 'cute' to say no. Frankly, I rather he go as he can't stay in my bed all day." Sherlock said with a frown.

 

 

John turned in the DI's lap and rubbed his head against Lestrade's stomach. At hearing his name, he looked back at Sherlock with his tongue peeking out from his mouth. He rolled onto his back and wiggled until Lestrade scratched his belly. Lestrade chuckled and looked down at the content pup. That did sound about right. He knew he was right when John was using his cuteness to stay with his master.

 

 

Sherlock was right. John would eventually get bored and have to be taken outside. The detective would be busy worrying about John to heal properly.

 

 

"That is true. He's okay now, but he's going to get bored. Who can watch him for you while you heal up? I mean, Ms. Hudson won't be home all the time."

 

 

"She's busy and I refuse to have my brother look after him. John will come back fat, no doubt." Sherlock stared at Lestrade with a look that made the DI nervous. "You can take care of John."

 

 

"What? I mean, I think John is great, but I have to work! He'll be cooped in the flat." Lestrade protested.

 

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and flicked his hand outwards. "I wasn't asking. You have the key to the flat. He knows where everything is and you can use John on the job."

 

 

Lestrade hated when Sherlock did stuff like this. He didnt know how to just ask for help. He wanted to refuse until he took a good look at John. John tilted his head in a questioning manner at him as his hand stopped. It was stupid how it brought a smile to his face. Someone would have to check his injuries and care for him.

 

 

No doubt John lived an active lifestyle from all the running around he did with Sherlock. Damn it, he hated when the detective was right got his way. He returned back to rubbing John's belly. Sherlock owed him big time. He couldn't even be properly annoyed as he took a good look at the detective. The pale pallor to his skin didn't go away and he was sagging against the bed. He was in worse shape than he looked. There was no other choice than to take John to the Yard with him.

 

 

Lestrade held John against his chest and stood. "Alright, you win. You're coming with me, Johnny. Say goodbye to your danger prone master."

 

 

John leaned forward in Lestrade's grip, licking Sherlock's forehead.  He nosed his curls and pulled away as the detective's hand came close, expecting a swat. The swat turned out to just be quick fingers under his chin. Sherlock let his hand drop and draped it over his lap. Lestrade could see the dismissal a mile away. He decided to let him rest as he left the room with John.

 

 

He felt John's ear brush his neck every time his head moved. Hot air hit his shoulder as John sniffed him, pressing his nose against his jacket. John didn't seem too put out on leaving Sherlock. The pup was no doubt putting up a tough front for Sherlock. Lestrade let out a sigh of own and spared a side glance at the pup in his arms.

 

 

"What am I going to do with you until the end of my shift?" he muttered to himself.

 

\----

 

 

Lestrade really did hate when Sherlock was right. He winced as the murderer press the gun to his temple. His team were positioned behind their cars, trying to reason with the woman. It should have been an open and shut case when they got the call. John had been as well behaved as any police dog. When they met Donovan at the scene, he walked at his side with his ears alert.

 

 

Maybe if he had paid attention to John like Sherlock did, he knew he wouldn't be in this situation. The detective was eerily in tune with John's moods and signals. The gun brought him back to the present and he tried not to make any sudden movements. If he died today, at least he could say he lived a happy life. Mycroft would likely be upset, but he knew he would get past it. Sherlock probably wouldn't come to the funeral. One of the dangers of the job was all it was.

 

 

Wait, where was John? He lost track of the injured puppy when the woman ambushed him on his way out the crime scene. Forget the gun, if the lady didn't kill him, Sherlock sure would. He was a right pain most days, but with John already hurt and lost again? Lestrade prayed that the puppy found one of his team. The last thing Lestrade wanted was a replay of the Anderson event. Letting him take John and telling him to dogsit was some kind of acknowledgement of trust.

 

 

Lestrade knew he should be more aware of what was going on, especially with the hysterical woman shouting in his ear. Maybe it was a gun was not as scary as what Sherlock's wrath would be if he knew he lost John. He resigned himself to his fate until the woman stopped shouting and let out a cry of pain. Lestrade felt her grip become slack and freed himself by slamming the back of his head into her face. He moved away before turning his back to see what saved him.

 

 

A relieved smile crossed his face as he realized John saved his life. It was hard to believe, even as the paramedics dragged him off to check for injuries. He brought the woman down with a bite to the back of her leg. He didn't waste any time going for her armed hand, biting her wrist and shaking it until the gun skidded away. There was a distinct silence from his team before they went to arrest the woman. John releasing his grip once Donovan put the cuffs on, scanning the street for his DI.

 

 

He quickly found him, running to the ambulance Lestrade was sitting in. John fidgeted in place before sitting at his feet. There was a faint splatter of blood on his muzzle from breaking the skin. The bandages around his paws were a little dirty and John looked pleased with himself, but Lestrade didn't care. He was alive, John was safe and he would live to see another day.

 

 

"Good boy, John! You saved my butt back there." Lestrade praised as he picked the pup into his arms.

 

 

He used his sleeve to wipe the small drops of blood off his muzzle. John let himself get cleaned and leaned forward to bathe the DI's face with his tongue. Lestrade laughed, turning his face away which allowed John to butt his head under his chin. The pup nuzzled him, giving him a few more licks before curling up in his arms.

 

 

"Sir, are you alright?" Lestrade looked up as Donovan walked to him.

 

 

"Other than a few minor cuts, I'm fine. I'm just glad I don't have to tell Sherlock I lost John. He could really be a police dog." he said, pulling John away from the shock blanket around his shoulders.

 

 

There was no need to gnaw on it. Where did he even pick up the habit in the first place? John didn't let up, managing to get a piece into his mouth. He let out a huff and held the fabric between his paws for stability. Both officers looked on , one fond and the other somewhat incredulous. Donovan cleared her throat and  gave Lestrade a stern look.

 

 

"Are you going to tel the freak what happened?"she asked.

 

 

Lestrade tugged the blanket from John, chuckling as he found himself in a game of tug of war. Donovan's words settled their way into his brain and his look quickly turned to one of horror. How could he even explain this?

 

 

"No. The less he knows about this, the better. Lord knows what he might do if he figures out John saved my life. He'll hold it over me and go all Papa Bear on me."

 

 

Donovan found herself nodding along. Everyone knew not to mess with Holmes if it concerned his dog. The freak was like a whole other person when it came to John. A very ruthless and scary person than the usual insensitive detective. Lestrade had the right idea. The best thing was to keep the whole situation to themselves.


	20. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn't understand why he has to deal with children on Halloween. Meanwhile, John is enjoying the extra attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something really quick for Halloween that I couldn't put up yesterday because of well...Halloween. 
> 
> If anyone was wondering of why the updates are so sparse, it's because I've been fresh outta ideas. It's been hard to come up with anything lately, so leave suggestions in the comments or at my Tumblr (noxtorious.tumblr.com)

"Oh Sherlock, doesn't John look adorable? I was worried it wouldn't fit, but it's just perfect!"

Sherlock stepped into his flat with his hands full and stared at the scene before him. Ms. Hudson,dressed as a witch, fixed the last of the costume before standing up from her kneeling position. A very resigned looking puppy dressed in a soldier uniform sat quietly on the floor. John gave his tail one wag in response to seeing Sherlock was home, but the look he gave his owner was one of pleading. It was obvious that he was humoring their landlady, but wanted the costume off. For once, Sherlock didn't know what to say.

He didn't understand why he had to help give candy in the first place. Halloween was a horrible marketing ploy that had nothing to do with the origins of the holiday itself. So, he shouldn't be subjected to having little monsters dressed up in cheap costumes on his doorstep. He realized that he was quiet for too long and went into the kitchen to put down his bags. 

"Quite. I am going to assume that John agreed to being dressed in an inaccurate soldier costume?" he said, pulling out bags of candy. 

Ms. Hudson gave him a playful swat on the arm and pointed to the empty bowls. "I had to find him first and he gave me a little struggle, but he makes a perfect little soldier. Don't you John?"

John scratched at the strap holding his helmet on with his paw. He let out a loud snort at the helmet covered his eyes and struggled to get it off. Sherlock smirked as Ms. Hudson rushed over to help as he focused on his task. Really, John should have know it was coming. Their landlady spoke about getting him into something all month and making him help with the handing out of sweets. Once the bowls were full, Sherlock turned to see that John had failed in getting the helmet off. Instead, he was being smothered in a hug from Ms. Hudson. 

A glare that promised revenge for not helping his pup came Sherlock's way and he figured that John had enough torture for one day. Well, not before he snapped a picture for future use. He walked over and plucked the disgruntled pup into his arms, adjusting his grip. John nipped his fingers as they came close and rested his head on his shoulder. Sherlock figured he did deserve that and found himself being nearly blinded by flashes as Ms. Hudson took pictures. 

"Don't think your free either, young man. Find one of those funny disguises in your closet to put on and help out." She grabbed one of the candy bowls off the table as the doorbell rang. "It will do you some good to have fun."

Sherlock didn't get to protest as she left the flat. Soon enough, he heard the chorus of children as the front door was opened. He let out a chuckle as John turned towards the door and the helmet slid down over his eyes. He fixed it as he headed to the bedroom. He could comply this once, especially if it would make their landlady forgive him about the head in the fridge. Sherlock already had a good idea of what to dress up as. The night would be much more bearable if he managed to scare some children away.

"Let's give Ms. Hudson a good Halloween night, shall we?"


	21. Oatmeal Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a sweater from Mrs. Hudson that he absolutely loves and Sherlock absolutely hates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a year already? I've gotten off my own schedule It's my own fault, really. I have like two chapters of this all partially finished. This is the only one I've finished so far.
> 
> Also, this might be the last of the chapters for a while. I've actually run out of feasible ideas for this. Any upcoming chapters will be sparse and far in the future. Remember, suggestion are always welcome. Leave some in the comments or on my Tumblr.

Sherlock had to wonder if Ms. Hudson waited until he left the flat to snatch John away. It would not be the first time that he left for a trip and John was with her. Before it was the fated Christmas Incident - he would never look at a pile of fairy lights the same again - and further back, Halloween. John did know how to hold a grudge for being a dog. That being said, there were only a few things on his Not Appropriate for John list. One, John was not allowed table scraps of any kind.  
  
He had his own special formulated food consisting of vegetables and meat. He did not need to worry about John getting fat. Secondly, John was not allowed in the kitchen when there was food - more likely hazardous experiments - were being prepared. The vet was expensive and having John not get sick was easily avoidable. Those was most important on the list. Others include John not allowed to go to the park and running off on his own. It was hell getting the pup clean and then out the tub when he was finished.  
  
The most important - though he admitted it was purely cosmetic and a pet peeve - was putting John in clothes. He was covered in fur and he saw no point of dressing him up. He was a dog. Dogs were not human children. There were no reason for clothes of any kind. Ms. Hudson knew he disapproved and waited until he was out of town.  
  
He told himself to stop underestimating his landlady when she wanted her way. It was impossible to stop her. Not to mention that John was occasionally on board with her schemes. Staring at the scene before him, he closed his eyes in hope that it was a hallucination. He opened them again. Nope. It was still there.  
  
John was on the carpet on his back, wiggling around as if he had an itch. That was nothing new. The dog hairs imbedded in said carpet could attest to that. The difference was the piece of clothing covering him. It was horrid oatmeal cable knit jumper that clashed with the color of his fur. The pup rolled to his feet and wagged his tail for Sherlock, stretching as he did so. It fit John snugly and make him look like more of a puffball.  
  
"Oh welcome back, Sherlock. Doesn't John look handsome?" Ms. Hudson said from her seat on the sofa.  
  
"He looks quite ridiculous. He's a dog, not a child. Wearing clothing is unnecessary." Sherlock answered as he went to go hang his coat up.  
  
John's ears went back and his tail drooped as if he knew Sherlock didn't approve of his new threads. He nosed Sherlock's leg as he passed before going over to Ms. Hudson. She made a disapproving noise at the detective, but made space for John to hop on the sofa with her. He plopped his head in her lap and gave her a loo as if she were to explain why Sherlock did not like his clothes. She had no real answer for the pup. Ms. Hudson scratched John behind the ears and chuckled as he let out a small huff.  
  
"Now that is quite rude, Sherlock. John loves his jumper. You wouldn't want him to get into those silk shirts you like so much again, would you?"  
  
Sherlock froze with the memory and felt his lips start to move into a frown. He moved to the kitchen to get John's dinner prepared. Oh, he remembered alright. Did anyone want to come home to see their dog rolling in their shirts? Especially when those shirts cost more than what some people made in a week. He threatened to shave John clean and give him away if it ever happened.

John wasn't phased, though he seemed to sense that Sherlock was not happy with him. He spent a few days at Ms. Hudson's until Sherlock cooled down. He spared a glance to see what the pup was up to. Ms. Hudson was in the doorway in preparation to go down to her own home. She fed John a treat that looked suspiciously like a ginger biscuit she made a few days ago. He still didn't understand why John wanted to keep such an ugly piece of clothing for himself.

He heard her mention that he needed to eat before leaving. Sherlock finished John's food and shook his head. Maybe John the gift comforting because of the scent. Still, there was no need for him to wear the jumper in the first place. He bent down and put the full bowl back into the stand. He started to stand when John found that the perfect to greet him was now.

John rushed him and shoved his whole body at Sherlock, tail wagging happily. To save himself from an embarrassing spill, Sherlock steadied himself with one hand. He sat on the floor and leaned back on the cabinet doors.  John clambered over his outstretched legs until he was comfortably in Sherlock's lap. He sniffed at the detective's chest and worked his way up to his neck. His cold nose nudged Sherlock's ear as he stuck his muzzle into his curls.

Apparently pleased with his inspection, John licked Sherlock's cheek and rubbed his head under his chin. Sherlock let out a grunt and wiped his cheek free of spit. John was actually a hefty weight in his lap. He pet John under his chin, ignoring the ticklish sensation of fur on his throat. His pup was starting to hit ending stages of growth and was putting on height and weight. He draped his free arm around John and let the pup snuggle into his embrace. 

Now that the jumper was close, he examined it in detail. Ms. Hudson must have been working on it for a while since the patterns were intricate. It was obvious that John adored the thing to pieces. He looked at the pup in his lap before letting out a sigh. This was disgusting. He had to be getting soft. John just kept breaking down his defenses.

"You like that hideous jumper regardless of how impractical it is, don't you?" Sherlock said.

John made a rumbling noise and wagged his tail, pressing closer to Sherlock. The detective sighed and lifted up the jumper to scratch John in his favorite place on his back.

"Oh fine, you can keep it."

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a little series of how Sherlock gets through life with having to take care of someone other than himself. Any and all suggestions are welcome as to see what Sherlock and John could be up to.


End file.
